


i should never have listened to you

by josten10



Series: listen to me [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, i butcher the awakening timeline in this part fyi, suddenly we're horny, there will be a timeskip in this book., this book is like 20 percent romance 80 percent description of fields
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 59,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josten10/pseuds/josten10
Summary: Frederick and Robin navigate the complexities of dating as coworkers. Robin takes on secrets like it's his profession.What is it to be yourself? Are you determined by the blood you inherit, or the blood you spill?The second part of my fredrobin series. Please read remind me why i listen to you FIRST.
Relationships: Frederick/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Series: listen to me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538284
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	1. colours/lovers

[COLOURS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJzjsaguv2I) / [LOVERS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElINqEyx7GM)

_AFTER_

_Kaleidoscope.  
Translucent fabrics hung from stalls, waving on poles as far as the eye could see – batiks, silkscreens and tapestries. Their patterns painstakingly brought to life over hours, the art symbolised stories and religious commitments – some familiar, and others as fabricated as the material they rested on.  
Cruelly, hiding in the shadows, far enough away that one couldn’t be noticed, was the only real place for someone far too central to the night’s festivities._

_Red, black, orange, green, blue. Pink, red, green, purple, black._

_Who are they celebrating? How much will they ask for this time?  
If you get what you want, will it make you start to care?_

*

MARCH 27TH – FREDERICK

Anxiety plagued Frederick’s every movement. He held himself tightly, arms crossed over his middle as he paced. The beat of the floorboards under his bedroom carpet creaked faster and slower as tides of nerves washed over him.

He had been alone for some hours now, and largely convinced himself that Robin wasn’t coming. What if he had imagined Robin’s confession? Frederick was _sure_ that he had held Robin’s hand in his own. He remembered the feeling of silken skin against his lips; the shadow of it made tingled repetitions as if he was kissing Robin over and over in his mind.  
He wasn’t entirely sure what had led him to kiss Robin in the first place – he had become a creature of want; struck only by the desire to reach out and take what he had denied of himself for so long until it was offered up to him.

_-_

_“Tell me what I have to do to rid myself of the anxiety”,_ he had pleaded of his mother.

 _“Let go,”_ she had responded.

In times long past, his mothers had been a symbol of love that crossed the distance of the stars.  
Perhaps they didn’t do it perfectly.  
Selene was never proud of herself – a quiet woman, stories of her heritage and achievements were lost in the void of her memory and scattered to the wind with the ashes of her body. Lilith was strong and stubborn – she could never possibly have compromised a molecule of the space she took up; huge and glaring like a bonfire next to her partner’s gentle simmer.  
Victims of the politics of Ylisse and Ferox, they existed between the lines. It would have been comfortable to let go. Easy, even. And yet, they still married – they bore a son; shared a home.

Frederick was twenty-three – hardly a man, but not still a boy. Had he grown enough to loosen up? In theory, there was space in his heart for Robin. But when it came down to it, could he sacrifice his duty for that love? If Chrom and Robin were both in danger, who would he choose?  
His heart pained at the answer – of course one could never be certain, but his instinct told him that he would not be saving Robin.

_-_

In his usual routine, Frederick would be washing his face about now; ready to change into his pyjamas and lay down with a good book. He was sure that, if Robin didn’t arrive, he would be awake all night waiting in his day garb.  
The issue was, Robin’s only true tendency was to be unpredictable. It was not out of the realm of possibility that he’d show up near daybreak – especially considering that night had long since fallen already. The man had little sense of time, leaving Frederick felt unable to start any task, and rounding him back to the anxious plodding of his footsteps.

A quiet rap at the door both saved him and took him apart.

Frederick wobbled his way over to the entrance.

Indeed, Robin was waiting outside; wearing a sheepish expression with his normal outfit.  
His hands were wound together at his front, dangling some papers between his fingers. Thinking about it, was he ever seen _without_ his notes?  
Robin was bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, perhaps energetically, or out of nerves. The longer curls at the front of his head jostled with his movement. He spoke before Frederick could find the words.  
“I’m sorry that took so long. Chrom kind of had a moment, so I had to talk him down.”

“It’s quite all right.” For once, Frederick felt a pang of irritation at Chrom’s emotional disposition – but it only lasted for a second, before he conceded that the fate of the country was more important than his silly romance. Robin was here, and that was what mattered.  
Frederick didn’t quite know what to do with himself; losing all sense of natural grace in his limbs, he shuffled about, robotic and gangly. “Are you…coming inside?”

“Am I allowed to?” Robin asked in a teasing tone, but his body language was much more apprehensive than that – shrinking away from the doorframe, Robin looked like he wasn’t sure if he was about to leave or enter. It soothed Frederick a little to know that Robin was anxious too.

He stepped aside and held his arm out welcomingly in lieu of a reply.

Robin filled the room with his presence as he entered.

His clean scent breezed by as he slipped past the door; spilling his notes out onto Frederick’s desk, the shadows he cast in candlelight stretching twice his size up the walls and across the furniture.  
Frederick wanted Robin to make more mess; leave evidence of himself everywhere – to wreck Frederick’s space with shards of his existence.

“So…” Robin turned slowly from Frederick’s desk. There was silence for what seemed like an eternity. Frederick willed his brain to work, but it gave him nothing; sitting quietly as if it was taunting him.  
“This is about…what happened in the boardroom.” Frederick could only nod in response, folding his arms as he leant on the back of the door for support. Some part of him was grateful that Robin had confirmed the reality of the event.  
“Frederick, we don’t have to have this conversation if you don’t want to.” Robin looked uncomfortable, rubbing one wrist with his opposite hand as he stared at the floor.

“No, no, Gods, of course I want to have this conversation. I am just…struggling to…come up with the vocabulary to express… _anything_ about it right now.” Frederick glared at his hands, feeling like an idiot.

“If you want to wait…maybe sleep on it; that’s okay too.”

“No-I…there’s not a lot of chance I’m going to sleep unless we come to some manner of a conclusion here. I’ve wanted this for long enough now to allow it to come to a head.”

“This?” Robin asked.

“Us.” Frederick clarified; for once, straightforward.

Robin looked at him from across the room, stood straight, fiddling with a button on the lower end of his coat. “Is this…y’know? Are we, uh, an _us_?”

“Ah, yes, well,” Frederick cleared his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose before he built up the nerve to look Robin in the eye again. “that would be… Would you perhaps do me the honour of allowing me to court you?”

Robin beamed at him, a patch of sunlight in a dark room. Frederick swore that Robin could light his way anywhere. “Wow, courting. You really _are_ old-fashioned.”

Frederick spluttered. “Well-I-it’s just how I was raised! If you don’t like it, then…”

“Frederick, I love it. I love everything about you.” His heart squeezed. “Then I suppose…you’ve considered the possibilities of my background.” Robin said more solemnly.

“Whatever may have happened before I met you…of course it matters. But we will just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. All I know right now is that…I want to be with you, and all I can do is act with those intentions.”  
Of course, Frederick had considered it; over and over. He could not love Robin if he did not trust who he said he was.  
If Robin was with someone already, it would hurt him – but he couldn’t waste his time away worrying over such a thing. He had reassured himself with his mother’s words echoing in his mind. Robin’s finger held no ring when they found him – there was no evidence that he was promised to somebody else.

Robin stepped forward and Frederick’s heart shot into his mouth as the distance between them was closed. His arms threaded around Frederick’s shoulders; his dark eyes holding something heavy. “Thank you.” Frederick looked down, confused, but placed his hands onto Robin’s waist anyway; craving any measure of distance he could close between them. “For believing me. And caring about me. And choosing me.”

Eyes closed in understanding; Frederick pressed his lips against Robin’s head. Another thrill shivered through him that he could get away with doing that now.  
“You deserve this. To be chosen; to be protected. To be loved. I am simply one vector of that – if I was not here, another person would easily have fallen for your charms.”  
He expected Robin to laugh, but there was silence between them. Frederick’s nerves returned.

“Frederick,” Robin murmured. There was something complicated in his gaze. He put his hand on the back of Frederick’s head, fingers threading in the short hairs there, and pulled down gently. Frederick finally understood, moving his hand up to drag his thumb across Robin’s thick lower lip. Robin opened his mouth a little with the contact, his long eyelashes fluttering closed.

Not all kisses were made equal.  
Frederick recalled his first kiss; a young boy he had been good friends with back home – they were both young. There was little that could be said to be special about it, aside from the fact that it was his first.

Robin’s kiss was holy.  
Tingles shot through his lips wherever they met. Time could have been passing, but there was nothing beyond the skin he was gripping tightly with his fingers. “Open your mouth,” Frederick said flush against Robin, and he did. His tongue felt exquisite.  
It had been some time since Frederick had kissed anybody – there were always those nerves; wondering if you were doing okay; if you were too deep or not deep enough or if you should taste something riskier. Frederick was not bold enough to compromise their first kiss. He licked lightly against the front of Robin’s tongue and rubbed comforting circles into the back of his neck with his fingertips. Robin made a noise that was almost silent – something between a moan and a gasp; whatever it was, it was intoxicating.

Years later, when the kiss broke, Frederick leant his forehead against Robin’s, eyes still closed. He wanted to keep kissing Robin, in spite of the tiredness that he was now far more aware of.

“Was that…okay?” Robin asked a little breathily.

“Yes, gods, yes.” He replied quickly, smoothing his hands over Robin’s shoulders. “Was it all right for you?”

“I think all I ever wanna do again is kiss you,” Robin hyperbolised instead of responding.

Frederick breathed a short laugh. “I can’t disagree with you.”

There was silence between them for a time.

In certain moments, the distance between you and another person could feel entirely closed – like your heart and mind was wide open, and that was terrifying, but exhilarating. Robin rested his head against Frederick, and it was perfect.

“I…guess I should probably get back, huh.”

Frederick hummed in agreement, but didn’t move to let Robin go. “Unfortunately, I think you might be right.”

“Can I come see you tomorrow?” Robin mumbled into Frederick’s shirt.

“I’m training some knights in the morning, but I can definitely fit you in some time after that.”

“I would like you to fit me in _very_ much.”

Frederick stuttered and blushed at the innuendo. Beneath him, he could feel Robin’s mouth turn up in a grin.

*

MARCH 27TH – ROBIN

Robin’s body shook uncontrollably on his way to Chrom’s quarters. Were the hallways always this... _horizontal_?

He could never have imagined that Frederick would reciprocate his affections. The back of his hand felt faint where Frederick’s lips had pressed against it. He would have cupped it were he not holding a hefty stack of paperwork.

Was he single? He guessed that, considering what had just transpired, it would probably be against the rules to kiss someone else. Does that mean he could say that he belonged to Frederick in some measure, or that Frederick belonged to him? Nothing had been said, but so much had been communicated… Robin felt high above the clouds; not sure if he was on cloud nine or lost forever.

The weight of Frederick’s kiss bound him like a ring. He had helplessly been lost to Frederick’s whims even before this evening, but there was something much more final about… whatever this was.

Robin couldn’t remember whether he had romantic experience or not – he supposed for now that made him inexperienced. He could only hope that he woke up one day and recalled how to be smooth, confident and sexy as he wanted to be. It was a silly little desire, but it held him all the same.

Chrom’s door was semi-open, an indication that it was fine to enter. It was not as if most people would have even worried about that, anyway. People invaded Chrom’s space like it was nobody’s business, even prior to becoming Exalt, so Robin tried to be more careful about it. He liked to think he could recognise when Chrom needed time alone better than most people, while also of the knowledge that Chrom genuinely enjoyed spending more time with him than most people. That made him feel special.

Robin knocked on the door even though it was ajar.

“Robin, is that you? Come in.”

He wormed his body through the gap, clicking the door shut behind him. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

Chrom puffed out a sigh of air and rested his arms behind his head. “Stressed, but I’m about as positive about all this as I could be. Thank you for doing this for me, Robin.”

“ _I’m_ not doing this for you, Chrom,” Robin scoffed, “ _you’re_ doing this. I’m just here with you.”

Chrom stared at him pointedly. “As if I could do this without you.”

“You definitely could. You’re just lucky to have the help.”

“I am,” he agreed, patting the seat next to him. “Sit down, old friend; I wanted to speak with you.”

“What’s up?” Robin asked as he sat down. He expected some rant on an awful section of policy that was going to inhibit their progress, or even a discussion of a future trip – but perhaps that was wishful thinking.

“I’m…worried. About Sumia.” He barely got the words out, face turning from neutral to crestfallen with a matter of words. “She seems so _off_ lately, and at first I thought it was all the politics, so I tried to talk to her about it, but she just shut me down, Robin. I feel like I hardly even _see_ her anymore.”

Robin winced. He had forgotten that he had to keep Sumia’s problems a secret until she was ready to tell him what was going on. His mind ticked over how he should handle this conversation.  
“So you don’t think she’s upset about the political reform?”

“No-I mean, I don’t know. I haven’t the foggiest, Robin; usually if Sumia has a problem she’ll just tell me, it’s not like her to keep it all inside. I figured if it was a problem we shared then she’d probably say something, so maybe it’s something else. I just don’t know why she would hide it.”

“Hey,” Robin said, putting his hand on Chrom’s shoulder, “it’s gonna be okay, you know. You said she always tells you – then trust that she will. She might just be…figuring out how to put it into words, or she might even be unsure of what it is herself.”

Chrom perked up a little at that. “You’re right. I should just trust her, I suppose. She’ll come to me when she’s ready.”

“Come here.” Robin said, opening his arms, and Chrom accepted his embrace. All he could do was comfort Chrom – say the things he would say had he not stumbled upon Sumia’s secret, and be there for them both when it did come out. He wished he hadn’t seen anything. That journey had been a waste of time, anyway.

Going back to see Frederick was far less tense, but somehow more nerve wracking; wide corridors never seeming to end, but he knew that they inevitably would reach a destination.

He had absolutely no idea what to expect. What was he going to say? He had initiated the meeting, after all. It was all so sudden – he and Frederick had never discussed anything like this.

As the door came into sight, Robin’s gut dropped down to his feet. He felt like closing his eyes to try to forget where he was going, but his brain felt heavy as rocks; he couldn’t separate himself from the thoughts that were screaming at him.

He’d knocked at the door before he registered the action.

There was beautiful Frederick, standing there…being beautiful. His hair was tousled back in the way it was when he’d been running his hands through it. The light was sparing at this time of night, but he was sure that Frederick was still perfect. Not for the first time, Robin wished he was taller, so that he could meet him at eye level.  
“I’m sorry that took so long. Chrom kind of had a moment, so I had to talk him down.” Those were the words that came out of his mouth, but the last thing he was thinking about was Chrom.

“It’s quite all right. Are you…coming inside?” Frederick had asked, but his huge frame blocked the entire entranceway.

“Am I allowed to?” Robin joked back, expecting Frederick to make a snarky remark, but he just moved out of the way.

Frederick’s room smelled like him. It felt a little thrilling and a little terrifying to be here this late at night – not that anybody would bat an eyelid what with the current state of the Exalt, but Robin knew his own ulterior motives. He wanted to wrap himself in the velvet scent and drown in Frederick.

Instead, he set his notes down on Frederick’s desk.

“So…this is about…what happened in the boardroom.” He tried to start, willing his brain to think on its feet. Frederick barely nodded; his face screwed up in discomfort.  
_Oh dear._  
What if…Frederick thought this was all a mistake? Had Robin messed up that badly? His fight or flight instincts told him to _leave now_. His face was getting hot.  
“Frederick, we don’t have to have this conversation if you don’t want to.” His eyes were cast downwards – he couldn’t even look him in the eye and have those fears confirmed.

“No, no, Gods, of course I want to have this conversation. I am just…struggling to… come up with the vocabulary to express… _anything_ about it right now.”

“If you want to wait…maybe sleep on it; that’s okay too.” Robin felt all hope leave him. This was going to ruin everything. All of the reform. All of Chrom’s support system. All of Robin’s home.

“No-I…there’s not a lot of chance I’m going to sleep unless we come to some manner of a conclusion here. I’ve wanted this for long enough now to allow it to come to a head.” Frederick looked decisive, and that scared the spirit from Robin’s body.

“This?” He could only manage as a response; searching for any kind of clarification.

“Us.” Frederick replied shortly. Well, _that_ was helpful.

Robin looked up for a minute, finding hope in an ‘us’. “Is this…y’know? Are we, uh, an us?”

“Ah, yes, well,” Frederick bumbled, and Robin hated himself even deeper when he thought about how cute it was. “That would be… Would you perhaps do me the honour of allowing me to court you?”

The world rocked for a moment – Robin loved boats, but for the first time he could remember, he felt seasick.

This was the confirmation he needed. He steadied himself, and smiled at Frederick. “Wow, courting. You really _are_ old-fashioned.”

“Well-I-it’s just how I was raised! If you don’t like it, then…”

Robin was quick to reassure Frederick, but he couldn’t deny feeling a little good that he’d caused Frederick to sweat a little, considering how much stress he’d been put under. “Frederick, I love it. I love everything about you.” Frederick looked especially beautiful when he was surprised.  
There was another conversation that needed to be had, though. “Then I suppose…you’ve considered the possibilities of my background.”

“Whatever may have happened before I met you…of course it matters. But we will just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. All I know right now is that…I want to be with you, and all I can do is act with those intentions.”

Usually, one does not get the responses one desires in one’s mind when asking such a revealing question. Most of the time, such questions backfire – make you feel less reassured than you were in the first place, and all the more vulnerable for it.  
This time, Robin heard exactly what he needed to hear.

Robin closed their distance quickly, needing to express the bubble of affection that rose up within and choked him. He nearly threw his arms around Frederick, getting a closer look at just how amazing he was; Robin’s heart rolling into his throat like a bowling ball and pushing that bubble further.  
“Thank you. For believing me. And caring about me. And choosing me.”

Frederick leant down to kiss Robin’s head in response, arms wrapped around him. “You deserve this. To be chosen; to be protected. To be loved. I am simply one vector of that – if I was not here, another person would easily have fallen for your charms.” Yes, Robin was sure that Frederick was perfect.

He couldn’t take it anymore; there were still distances between them that needed to be closed, right now, immediately. “Frederick,” Robin tried to ask, but the words got caught in the back of his mouth. All he could do was pull Frederick down to his level and show him what he felt.

Frederick dragged his thumb over Robin’s lip, and Robin felt it everywhere. He wanted Frederick to take him apart with his touch.

Finally, _finally_ , Frederick put his lips on Robin’s.

Frederick’s mouth was incredible. He wasn’t sure what kisses were supposed to be like, or if he was doing it right, but he wasn’t sure he cared – completely lost in the feeling, he held Frederick closer as if he could weld their bodies together. It was a little uncomfortable to crane his neck so high, but the kiss felt too good to change anything; he could suffer a little for the most fantastic eventuality possible to his rushed confession.  
Frederick let up the pressure for a moment. “Open your mouth,” he said; voice baritone and gravelly and tearing Robin in two. He could only enthusiastically comply.  
Kissing with tongues induced a new kind of hunger; one that let up in the pit of his stomach and refused to stop raging higher and lower and all over his body. Forgetting to breathe, he ended up making an extremely embarrassing noise, but Frederick only gripped him closer, doing something incredible with his mouth, and Robin was entirely at its mercy. He wanted to do this to Frederick as well; being sure that when he got used to the feeling he would learn exactly what Frederick liked.

All good things must come to an end, and they, too, fell apart.

Robin began to feel nervous now he wasn’t wrapped up in a haze of hedonism. “Was that…okay?”

“Yes, Gods, yes. Was it all right for you?

“I think all I ever wanna do again is kiss you.

“I can’t say that I disagree.”

*

MARCH 28TH – CHROM

Moonlight hit the pages on the book Chrom was on the verge of giving up on, mingling with the weak candlelight. He squinted his eyes and brought it closer to his face, somehow hoping that would make him concentrate.  
The room was hued in more shades of blue than it was usually; Chrom preferred to decorate with indigo, but the night turned even the other colours into a dull and stagnant navy. The dark walls felt like they were closing in a little, and Chrom was restless; his knee bouncing as he attempted to refocus.  
A new, tall shadow fell over him with the creak of the door to his quarters. He turned his head to see the intruder.

“Sumia? You’re back late.” He tried to speak without accusation in his tone, closing his book gently, but his anxiety fell through cracks; voice shaking, movements sharp – he rose quickly, hoping her figure wouldn’t fade into the shadows like a dream. She was the only person he wanted to see lately, and had been avoiding him like a disease.

“…Sully and I were sparring.” She said sheepishly. It almost felt like a lie.

Chrom grew more desperate.  
“Sumia, please talk to me.”

“I already told you, Chrom, there’s nothing to say.” She sounded exhausted, turning her back on him as he broke. “I’m tired, so I want to go to bed.” Sumia undid her belt and pulled her dress lithely over her head, furthering their distance when she went to look for her nightwear.

He said her name once more – it felt like a plea; a prayer. Anything to break through the walls she was building between them.

The world paused for a moment, Sumia’s feet mid-step; Chrom’s arm outstretched.

She turned, and for once her face didn’t hold a mask – only pain. He closed the distance again. His face found the dip between her shoulder and her neck; she cradled him there. “Whatever it is, it can wait, okay?” Her arms squeezed him tighter as his hands found her back. “Please don’t pretend like everything is okay when it’s not. We don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready – just don’t push me away. I can still hold you even if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“All right,” Sumia agreed, and for a moment, everything was fine.

*

_BEFORE_

_Red.  
Most shades of red were beautiful; bright and bold like a juicy apple or deep and regal like a monarch’s robes. This particular shade – it was wrong. Something like a musical note that would send you to your death just by hearing it, the colour brought bile rising up in his throat; he felt like he was going to puke if he stopped screaming.  
“Shut your mouth!” That awful voice commanded, the bottoms of his shoes soiled, the red turning them darker and darker as it spread upwards into the fabric. Robin looked away in disgust. “You must look. Commit it to your memory.” The voice was like hypnosis – he was not sure how long it had been since he had not obeyed his father’s every command. There would be a sore price to pay if he didn’t._

_Robin looked._

_He felt like he was going to scream again. The sight of the dead body on the ground made him feel faint. He wasn’t sure if he was smelling blood and death or if his brain was creating the scents out of panic – it was repulsive; it felt wrong, wrong, wrong, to see what he knew to be someone who was once alive not performing the function of living anymore.  
The person was hardly known to him – a servant who had cleaned his room with some regularity, he nodded in Robin’s direction when they passed one another, but that had been the extent of their interaction.  
“Get used to it,” His father’s voice said again. “You killed thousands in your past life.”_

_“That wasn’t me!” Robin cried, horrified._

_“However you may feel is irrelevant – it will be undeniable soon. Think of yourself as one and the same. The rite will be much more likely to go off without any hitches that way.” His father’s purple shadow consumed all of Robin’s vision. “Take this,” He said. “You will promptly be showing me what you have learned.”_

_Seven-year-old Robin’s hand shook as it clasped around a dagger._

*

MARCH 28TH – ROBIN

Robin woke up in a sweat. He awoke uncomfortable often, with the distinct sense that he’d experienced a nightmare, but this time, dregs of it hung in his mind. He could smell the fading scent of blood as he raised his head from his pillow, scrunching his nose in discomfort.

The bedroom was already in disarray, despite the short period of time Robin had been back; that thick red tome placed neatly on his bedside table so as to not be disturbed by any of the snack crumbs or glass rim stains that it would be subject to on his desk. Another set of books were stacked haphazardly by his couch. His coat was flung over the foot of his bed – observing it, he suddenly felt giddy, remembering the mood in which he left it there.

Frederick had kissed him. He and Frederick had kissed. They were courting. And they kissed!!!

Robin pulled his sheets up over his face as he recalled the gentle way in which they had said goodnight. He wondered what Frederick was doing right now – would it be wrong to go and see him? Frederick had said it was fine after the morning – Robin rarely woke up before eleven o’clock – but his nightmare had woken him at eight and all he could think of was his lover.  
Maybe he was already being too needy; too irritating. Frederick was a working man. Even if Robin’s feelings were reciprocated, he couldn’t interfere with professional endeavours – that would be the opposite of what Frederick wanted. He decided to preoccupy himself until twelve.

*

MARCH 28TH – FREDERICK

Young knights stood at ease, forming loose rows in the courtyard; fresh-faced and ready to be introduced to the castle. They were still in their lay-clothes, not having the chance to collect their uniform – that would be a stop-off they had to make on their tour, Frederick thought to himself.  
He found his pocket watch – it was still on the earlier side of seven, but that didn’t leave all that much time for everything Frederick wanted to get through. He grimaced.

Usually he was left with the task of training new recruits; not just due to his seniority, but also because of his bossy tendencies. His colleagues were more than happy to allow him to teach people where they didn’t have to, and he was widely regarded to be rather good at it.

Frederick took his place in front of the knights, and light chatter quickly turned to silence.  
“Welcome to Ylisstol Castle, Knights of Ylisse. For the foreseeable future, this area will become your home; your workplace and your personal quarters. To get this far you have been incredibly lucky, and incredibly skilled – I will be expecting you to keep that in mind during the time you are training under me.” He paced as he talked; taking a good look at the individuals he would be getting to know shortly.  
“First, we will be visiting the training grounds, where I will be going over your daily regimen. I hope that you have all brought something to write _with_ and _on_.” He said that, but he knew that most of them were probably unreliable in that aspect – he had plenty of spare parchment and led tucked away in the training shed.  
Letting the ill-equipped students stew in that anxiety, he turned on his heel; motioning quickly with his hand to get them to follow.

It was still rather chilly at this time of day; spring winds grazed against Frederick’s face as he entered the training grounds.  
The grounds were a wide space surrounded by mazes of hedges with a large stone centre. Spears, swords and axes had been left on the sharpening bench by seasoned knights who had been training even earlier, and the young knights chattered excitedly as the battered things came into view. The best weaponry was in the storage sheds; of course, young knights would not be entitled to wield something with extreme power until they had proven their worth.  
A chalkboard was placed at the back near the sharpening bench – Frederick had left it there earlier – with a table drawn on it of weekly activities.

Frederick prattled on about punctuality, training regimens and examination periods, young knights scratching away at the parchment he had given them with fervour that was sure not to last over the coming year. For now, he revelled in their earnestness; his own not having diminished for his entire career, but, he supposed, that was why he was where he was.

After the immense fuss of assigning the youths their dorm rooms and armour, they returned to the training grounds; this time, to actually participate in some training.  
If it could actually be called training – this wasn’t originally part of the introductory day, but most of the knights here had a measure of interest in weapons and battles, so Frederick thought it apt to give them a taster session.  
At least, that’s what he told himself, suppressing a smile as his students grew loud with laughter hitting each other with wooden swords.

That was, until, he saw one young man standing by himself, swinging a sword with some measure of proficiency, but without a smile on his face.  
Frederick picked up a sword on his way over.

“Can’t find anyone tall enough to spar with you? Hard luck, really; you’ll have to make do with me.”

The young man looked up from the intense stare-off he was having with his weapon; deep eyes betraying vulnerability. “I-uh-I’m okay. I wanted to practice on my own.”

“Well that is quite unfortunate, considering I asked you all to pair up for this training.”

Frederick was met with a grimace. “It was hard enough…to get into this place. Some try to talk to me, but these people…they can’t relate to me.”

He stared down at the young Feroxi man, noting himself in the dark curls, stocky frame and thick body hair. “Perhaps you are of a different background. But we all have our own humanity in common.”

Frederick was out of his depth, and the knight looked as if his words had the effect of leaves in the wind. “Humanity is defined by the majority who claim it. Do you think that when they look at me – when _you_ look at me, you see a human?”

_Yes!_

For once, Frederick thought about himself as a Feroxi man. In fleeting moments, he had the desire to connect with the culture, as if he was reconnecting with parts of himself – but they rarely lasted long enough to do anything about it. He picked up a book about Feroxi culture, and he put it down again.

Perhaps his blood was half-foreign. His ancestry parted like a fork in a river with him at the connection – and yet, what was left of one side? He felt dry and stuck as mud at the man’s questions. He couldn’t possibly hope to relate – but he wanted to, with distaste in his gut that only grew larger. Mostly, being Ylissean felt like nothing at all, but today, it felt damning.

*

MARCH 28TH – ROBIN

Robin sniffed at his old coat. He always wore it – with not much thought about _why_ ; he just woke up each day and donned the thing like it was the most natural act in the world. Right now, he was wondering if it smelled bad.

He didn’t sleep in it that often.

Only sometimes.

And, because of how often he wore it, it was hard to find the time to wash it, and then it felt cold, and smelled of something instead of nothing, and he had to wear it in again. Robin was a little afraid of damaging the fabric – at the edges it was chalky in texture, feeling like it might fade away between his fingers like ice under hot water.

Frederick had never seemed to care about the smell of the coat before – he was the type to say if something bothered him, Robin thought. Not that it would change anything if Frederick was openly bothered, aside from Robin’s self-consciousness; to leave his coat behind on such an anxiety-inducing journey was simply not an option.

The sun was high in the sky; it was not far past noon. Spring flowers guided Robin’s way out to the training grounds, moving to spread their pretty colours further left and right, unfazed by the huge snake of brick that flattened into a dollop in the centre of the gardens.

Frederick’s figure was not hard to spot. Even in crowds, he towered over his peers. This time, he was stood at the front of a group of young knights, their postures an imperfect picture of attention.

“…and I expect the same discipline to be shown by you. Make your way to the kitchens – lunch is ready to be served. Supper is at six-thirty; I will be at the entrance to your dorm at precisely six-fifteen if any of you cannot find your way from there. I will not be waiting for stragglers. You are dismissed.”

The young knights filtered out; Robin winding out of the way of their stampede, holding a hand up to Frederick in greeting. “Ahoy.”

Frederick’s mouth stretched into a cat-like grin when he recognised Robin, his shoulders going slack as his legs steered him close enough to embrace Robin around the shoulders. “I’m glad you could make it. We ran a little over time, actually; some fool had forgotten to supply the new knights with their uniforms, and it was rather a challenge to make sure everybody received the correct fit.”

“That sounds like a mess. Thank goodness for your incredible intelligence and competency.” Robin realised how close their faces were in a public place, and felt embarrassed, but it also held an air of excitement – he didn’t pull away.

“And how much sarcasm was intended in that statement?” Frederick teased.

“A lot less than you might think, actually.” Robin turned his head to see if all the students had evacuated.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can I kiss you?” 

Frederick’s teeth found his bottom lip for a moment. “I suppose that I am not working right now...however...”

“I won’t be offended if you say no. It's just, well, there’s nobody here, and...”

Frederick remained still for a short while, and then moved to hold Robin’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head upwards in a way that made his stomach knot.

Kissed once, Frederick pulled away a little, became indecisive, and kissed Robin twice; three times. Robin breathed a laugh at the sweetness of it – they were all chaste, but full of the neediness of new love.

“Don’t get greedy.” Frederick chastised, no venom in his words.

“Mmm, it’s hard not to. I promise I won’t, like, make out with you in a board meeting or anything,” Robin muttered into Frederick’s neck, and felt him laugh there.

“Would you like to get lunch?”

Truth be told, Robin wasn’t particularly hungry, but he agreed because he thought Frederick should eat something.

-

“The canteen is rather...lively, isn’t it?”

“You could say that.”

The floor was almost entirely covered with mysterious sauce, rice and vegetables – at least, as far as was discernible. The room was loud – not like the linked pattern of an orchestra; much more disorganised than that. The noise was unbearable in its content: yelling of any number of conversations, scratching of cutlery against plates – odd, since most of the food ended up outside of people’s mouths. Robin was feeling a little unwell at the sounds. He wanted to leave.

Frederick twitched an eyebrow, his face growing steadily redder; saying nothing.

“We should leave.” Robin said.

“…No; they’re my students – I have to discipline them. I apologise, but I think I shall have to cut our time short.”

Robin’s face further soured from his already curdled expression. “Can’t somebody else do it?”

“Technically, they should be being watched over by any number of my colleagues, but I believe that none of them are present.”

“Well then it’s their fault.”

“It's not about who is at fault. It’s about the poor soul who will be tasked with cleaning all of this mess up – and about ensuring the behaviour of our future knights doesn’t allow them to act like unreasoned animals.”

“They’re just being teenagers; Freddy.”

“Perhaps that is so.” Frederick was impassive.

“Listen. I know you feel bad, but most of the damage is already done. Your co-workers are probably relying on you to keep these lot in line so that they don’t have to do any work. I'm suggesting you walk out before you’re noticed, and pretend like you never saw anything, and let somebody else be the responsible one for once.”

Frederick pursed his lips. “You know what – you’re right. I haven’t the energy to be dealing with this. I already did more than is required of me. Perhaps it is time for a lesson in discipline for my peers.”

Robin took Frederick's hand, and led him out of the hall. “Is there anywhere else you can eat?”

“There’s an old kitchen near the Exalt's quarters, but...”

“But?”

Frederick smiled wryly. “We'd have to make the food ourselves.”

-

The room was, surprisingly, not as dusty as Robin had imagined it – apparently it was in regular use; mostly for the servants to make their own meals, and for Chrom if he wanted a midnight snack.

Walls were head-to-toe in flagstone; similarly to Lilith's house – but at the same time, entirely different. It was dark and full of open spaces; it echoed when you walked in it, polished stone surfaces cold to the touch. Robin could never call himself comfortable in kitchen spaces, but even for him, it was all a bit...clinical.

“I've never seen you cook anything before.”

“You are not going to watch me this time, either – you will be participating, Robin.”

“I really think you overestimate my cooking proficiency.”

“You’ll have to learn sometime.”

“You mean you won’t be cooking for me?” Robin stumbled at the end of the sentence, nearly tripping over the word ‘forever’. It was probably a little too early for words like that, even in jest.

“You would have to be incredibly lucky,” Frederick said, pointing a handful of spaghetti in Robin's direction, “for me to cook for you with any regularity. I am hesitant to call it a hobby – it is not something I particularly enjoy.”

Robins was surprised to hear him say that. “Didn’t you help your mother bake as a child?”

“Baking and cooking are two incredibly different skills.” He replied from the pantry.

“How?! You’re just dumping ingredients together and shoving them in a stove!” Robin mocked, resting his elbows against the central islands.

“You know what; perhaps you shouldn’t learn to cook.” Frederick brought out some ingredients in his arms. “But, I _would_ like you to slice some tomatoes.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Robin headed over to the back counter where Frederick was sorting his ingredients onto cutting boards that had mysteriously appeared.

“Hm.” Frederick commented.

“What?” 

“That may be the first time you’ve followed my instruction immediately without talking back.”

“Don’t get used to it!” Robin announced, trying to recall the way he chopped that onion last time.

“Robin, are you trying to cube a tomato? Don’t do that; the juice is going to go-”

_Splatter._

Juice scattered across the table, oozing over Robin’s hand with a thick, sticky texture.

“Look, you even got it in your hair. Don’t look so sad about it; we can use it for the sauce – I have more tomatoes anyway…Robin, are you all right?”

“…Yeah; yeah I’m all right.”

“Did you want to stop? I know I said you had to help, but it really doesn’t bother me if I cook alone.” He busied himself chopping up garlic into tiny cubes.

“No! It’s just. I had a nightmare last night, and I just remembered it, so.”

“Would you like to…talk about it?”

“Hm…” Robin thought about it. “You remember when I said I thought someone had tried to hurt me?”

“When I saw your scar?”

“Yeah. This dream. I think it had something to do with my past, Freddy.” His hand shook where he still held the half of the tomato that was intact.

Frederick put the knife down. “A bad thing?”

“This is such an awful time to tell you about this.”

“Robin, it’s okay.”

“Frederick…I think I killed somebody.”

“Robin,” Frederick breathed. “I am not sure I know a polite way of phrasing this, so you’ll have to forgive me. But – that is incredibly unsurprising.”

Robin looked up, hurt. “What, because I’m Plegian?”

“No, Gods, of course not. I’m talking about, when we first found you, and you possessed a tome, and practically took out all of those bandits by yourself. Not only did you hold a weapon, but you knew how to use it.”

“I suppose so.” Robin bit his lip.

“We end people’s lives all of the time. It is not something to gloss over, or to hold with pride. But it is a truth of reality. You may once have been a Plegian soldier, perhaps, but now you are a Ylissean one.”

Robin knew deep down that was not the kind of killing he had been involved in. “I suppose that war really is like that. I was reborn here, and that’s all I know, so I keep fighting for it.”  
Frederick was silent, and, for the first time in a while, his expression was unreadable.  
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I still have allegiance to Ylisse, I swear. I just…”

“You’re trying to understand yourself in the context of a you that you don’t know.”

“…Sure.”

“Robin, it’s okay to experiment with that.” Frederick said, but Robin didn’t quite believe that. “You’ve already proven your worth – I know that Chrom and Ylisse matter to you.” One half of that was true. “On top of that…you are my-”

“Your?”

Frederick blushed, and looked back down at his garlic. “My boyfriend.”

“Hehe. Boyfriend.” Robin nudged Frederick’s hip with his own, bad mood suddenly overturned.

“You’re silly.” Sunlight filtered in through the back windows, dusting the tips of Frederick’s hair with yellow. Robin wanted to kiss it.

“And you like that about me! You like me.”

“I am rather fond of you, yes.” Frederick smiled beautifully, making eye contact with Robin through his peripheral vision.

Robin pushed Frederick’s hair back behind his ear. “We should go on a date.”

Frederick spluttered for a moment. “A date!”

“Unless you don’t want to do that…”

“No, I do! I do! A date…” Frederick was expressive again.

“You don’t have to think so hard about it,” Robin said, pressing the wrinkles between his eyebrows. “I’ve got this one.”

Frederick suddenly looked unimpressed. “Are you sure?”

“You need to learn to trust me!” Robin replied, offended.

“All right…” He sounded unconvinced.

“Well, now you’ve done it. I’m going to make the best, most enjoyable date ever. And then you’ll regret it.”

“Oh, I will surely grovel. Now finish chopping that tomato, and make sure you don’t explode anything else.”


	2. fairytales/waifs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A captive prince cries crystal tears and an angry god destroys a world. They are one in the same.
> 
> Robin and Frederick go on a date, hit each other with swords, save a life, crash a wedding, and watch the world go by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: DROWNING

[ FAIRYTALES ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxZDxF0MyV0) / [ WAIFS ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xIWcAVyNvcw)

_???_

_Desert sand was creeping into Robin’s shoes. They hadn’t really been designed for outside, but he didn’t own anything else. He would have complained about it, but the words felt heavy on his tongue, like they were taboo. It was a sacrifice, part of the larger one they had made in leaving everything that they had behind._

_Holding hands had always meant something sinister. The tight grip; fingers interlocked like the jail cell bars and slotted neatly into each other. He knew what escaping meant.  
_ _Trapped, like an animal - it was some measure between safety, from what they had left behind, and subjection. Now, with the world opening up in front of him, Robin felt like he had less choice than ever.  
_ _His mother’s bangle smacked against his wrist as they ran, desert sand making his footfalls slow and clumsy._

_“I’m tired.” He tried, hoping desperately for her to produce a miracle._

_Her grip only tightened. “We need to keep going, Robin. There’s a city not far from here.”_

_“You said that ages ago.”_

_“Don’t argue with me. We need to conserve our energy.”  
_ _It was not like he had much choice. All around him were similar hilly slopes and dunes; the heat making visible waves in the air as far as the eye could see. Again, the gap between freedom and jail shifted closer. As if there was any escape from this.  
_ _“Robin, don’t hold my hand so tightly.”  
_ _The sun was beating down on them relentlessly; it was hard to judge the passage of time - had it even shifted from the position it was in when they left?  
_ _“Robin, are you even l-what’s wrong?”_

_His chest felt aflame, like the sun itself had been brought down to give him lashings for his insolence - Robin was dragged to the ground as if his body was focusing all its energy on the sheer pain in his chest. He felt his knees hit the sand harder than expected; the grains forming a barrier instead of parting under his weight._

_Then came the clawing._

_It was something desperate; nails scratching at his insides like they were burrowing into the earth. His flesh began to part, slowly, dizzyingly, making him dry heave into the sand. He could no longer hear the world around him, but he was sure that his mother finally let go of his hand._

-

APRIL 14TH

Robin’s scar ached. Not just that; the dull ache in his chest blossomed forward into a blistering soreness as if he had torn the skin anew - he’d lifted his shirt up to check in the mirror, but it looked exactly the same as always. Maybe he had slept on it funny.  
That lingering soreness seemed to fade like the memory of a dream as he looked at it; the heat waning as fast as it had come. Maybe he’d imagined it.

It was the night before Robin’s promised date, and the air felt cool on his heels as he rushed down the castle corridors.

They had spent the past couple of weeks under each other’s feet; literally, playing footsie under the table as they wrote documents by candlelight. Stealing little but each other’s time and chaste kisses, Frederick and Robin had continued their lovers’ game when they were sure they were alone.  
Robin had never seen Frederick smile so much, but nothing compared in his mind to the serious look Frederick got in his eyes when he was sure Robin wasn’t watching.  
There was something so important about it - incoherently so. It made him feel infinitely precious and uncomfortably studied at the same time.  
It was yet another thing Robin added to the scrapbook of memories in his brain, promising never to forget.

He smiled to himself, rounding the corner to his bedroom to retire for the evening. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep right away, so he picked up a book from the floor on the way to his bed.

Since visiting Frederick’s mother’s house, Robin had grown an insatiable appetite for fairytales. He wondered about the psychology of it - if it was something to do with his memory loss or escapist urges.   
It didn’t matter much, really. Robin propped open the book on his stomach where he lay. Its cover was heavy; some kind of animal skin, probably. The parchment was old and on every other page was an intricately hand-drawn scene, painted in watercolour like a mosaic. 

The book was about a kidnapped young prince, whose hair was long and flowing, waiting to be saved from a condemned castle. He sat on the window ledge and cried crystal tears every day, until he was discovered by a lonely dragon - who promised his freedom in exchange for the crystals he cried and his friendship.  
The prince had just gotten onto the dragon’s back in time for Robin to fall asleep.

-

APRIL 15TH 

Frederick could hardly swallow his breakfast, and the quicker the time passed, the sicker he felt. There had been no sign of Robin yet - not unusual; morning as a concept did not seem to exist for him. Still, the anticipation was making Frederick gassy.

Robin had insisted on it being a surprise. Knowing him, it was planned down to a T, but it didn’t stop Frederick from dithering in his quarters. Should he bring anything? Water? Rations? Led and parchment? He decided on everything; stuffing a cloth canteen unceremoniously into his knapsack. Even a tactician shouldn’t be left alone to conquer all eventualities - it would soothe the burden if Frederick was prepared. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

He slung the thing over his shoulders. Next he should prepare a horse.

-

“I thought I might find you here.” The voice was low, but still carried in the barn, and Frederick could recognise it anywhere.

He still jumped at noise, though, startling the horse as he dragged the brush the wrong way along its back. “Milord! What brings you here?”

Chrom leaned against the arching doorway of the barn, dressed casually, sunlight tickling his outline. That new smile was still on his face - not the carefree grin he had sported in his youth; now something more adult and reserved. That was not the only thing about him that looked aged - the bags under his eyes were a testament to his new-found work ethic. Frederick wondered why it made his heart ache.  
“Nothing of great importance. I just haven’t been seeing much of you lately - doubtlessly my own fault, and I wanted to...thank you for helping me as much as you always do. What say you and I travel somewhere today?”

Frederick struggled to find the right words, as he often seemed to when it came to Chrom. “Milord, you need not thank me for doing my duty. I am always more than happy to assist you.”

Chrom’s face lit up with humour, as if he was expecting that answer. “Still - I consider you more than my knight. You are my friend, Frederick. So - come with me on the note of my affections, if not for my gratitude.”

Before Frederick could think of an appropriate response, a figure popped its head up behind Chrom’s shoulder, patting him on the back firmly. “Sorry, Your Kingliness, but your knight has a prior engagement.”

Chrom looked at Robin with surprise for only a moment, before he smiled again - with something suspiciously knowing. “... _Oh._ Wow, all right; I didn’t mean to interrupt. Enjoy yourselves, okay?” He pointed towards Frederick with a serious look. “Frederick - we’ll come back to this at a later date.” At that, he went to ruffle Robin’s hair, only to be batted away; Robin playfully irritated at the gesture. Chrom grinned at him, and rounded the corner out of the barn.

“...What was _that_?” Frederick asked after he was sure that Chrom had left.

“He’s just being an asshole.” Robin rolled his eyes, making his way over to the horse.

Frederick watched him pat the horse on the nose and felt anxiety rise in his gut. “Robin, does Chrom...know about us?”

Robin looked up at him, and there was a flash of _something_ in his eyes before his face went entirely blank. He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t tell him about us exactly… He just guessed from before… I…”

“You?”

“I had, _y’know_...for you…” He shuffled foot to foot, hay crinkling under his steps.

“Feelings?” Frederick filled in the gaps.

Robin looked away awkwardly. “Yes.” Quickly, his eyes met Frederick’s again, and he looked nervous. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, not at all! I was just curious.” Robin was silent. Time for a topic change, then. “I presume you came to see me because you are ready to leave?”

Finally, Robin cracked a grin. “Who said we were _leaving_?”

Frederick went cold. Were they staying on the grounds for their date? What had he prepared for, then? “Are we not…going out?”

Robin turned his back to pick up the saddle, but Frederick could have sworn he saw Robin’s shoulders shaking with laughter. “We are. I was just messing with you.”

“Robin, I _swear._ ” He seemed to have picked up a habit for playing with Frederick’s little anxieties. 

“You shouldn’t swear.” Robin teased, still holding the saddle between his fingers as he approached Frederick with hooded eyes.

Frederick traced Robin’s jawline with his fingers. There was silence between them for a long moment; Frederick taking in what the yellow glow of the barn did for Robin’s features. “You will be the death of me, sooner rather than later.” He wasn't talking about the joke, and Robin knew that as well as he did; watching him with eyes near-closed. Frederick wondered how large Robin's lips would swell if he bit them.

“Better kiss me before you die, then.”

In lieu of a response, Frederick closed the distance between them.   
Kissing was something they'd quickly become comfortable with. There was something intoxicating about it. A physical closeness that promised an emotional closeness, too. Intimacy which was an outlet for words they couldn't say yet.  
“Mm...we shouldn’t really be doing this in such a public place.” He said against Robin’s lips.

Robin’s hands went to Frederick’s chest, and for a moment he thought Robin was going to pull him in again, but instead they stayed flat and still there. “You’re right,” He said, but he was looking at the ground beside them. He patted Frederick’s chest lightly. “Let’s get going then, shall we?”

-

Having Robin’s back tucked snug right against Frederick’s chest while they rode horseback together was a feeling he could _really_ get used to. He wound his arms around Robin’s waist, leaning impossibly forward to mutter into Robin’s ear. “I missed you.”

He could feel the pull of Robin’s grin against his cheek. “You saw me yesterday, you sap.”

“But not like this. Not without the pressure of work.” Frederick reached for the hand which was gripping the stirrups, and closed over it. “Now it’s just us, and I can enjoy our time uninterrupted.”

“We’re here. You’ll have to move if you want me to stop this horse.”

“Ever the romantic, Robin.”  
Robin laughed loudly, moving to park the horse near a wooden gate that looked like it had seen better days. “Where even are we?”

Robin pressed his hands against the horse’s back, clumsily pushing himself up and onto the ground. “You can’t guess yet?”

Frederick followed suit. There was endless greenery, interrupted only by a small shed, and something in the distance. Were those...targets?  
“Archery, Robin?”

Robin gestured out towards the targets. “I figured it’s something neither of us are particularly strong at, so, I thought we could learn together!”

Rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, Frederick spoke. “Ah, well, about that. I actually used to take archery lessons.”

Robin turned around at that, looking defeated in an instant. “Really?”

“No, I was just messing with you.”

Robin shoved Frederick’s side gently. “I hate you!”

“No, you don’t.”

He was met with a sigh that sounded far more exasperated than it truly was. “Come on, let’s go before we lose the light.” Robin grabbed him by the hand.

“It’s hardly noon.”

-

Arrows were strewn about every which way _except_ the targets; laying in the grass and stuck in the fence behind them. They hadn’t even managed to land a hit - Frederick was left with a much higher impression of Ylisstol Castle’s own archers who dealt with _moving_ targets.  
“Gods, we are awful at this, aren’t we?” 

Robin slumped from his strike position, his bow resting at his side. “Yeah, a little bit.” Immediately, he perked up. “Ooh, I have an idea! Get behind me.”

“Nothing indecent, I hope.” Frederick came up behind Robin, and in spite of his words, wound his arms around his waist, burying his nose in his neck. He heard Robin’s breath hitch and felt his own heart race.

“Not like that. I want you to help me shoot!”

He didn’t move from Robin’s neck. “...If we are both terrible at archery, then how, pray tell, is this going to help either of us land a shot?”

“You never know until you try. I was going for a trial and error sort of thing.” Robin angled his bow again, stepping backwards to align his body.  
  
“Actually, your arms are crooked. Come here.” Frederick raised Robin’s elbow with his hand, steadying him. “Almost...and...try that.” Moving away, he allowed Robin to take the shot.

They both held their breath as the arrow sailed through the air far more accurately than they’d done so before. “Did you see that!! We did it!”

“Robin, it bounced off the target.”

Robin turned to face Frederick, and his expression was full of excitement. “So?! It _hit_ it in the first place!”

“...I suppose it did. Well done.”

“It was a combined effort.” Robin moved up onto his tiptoes and kissed him chastely. Frederick, though, had other ideas; pulling Robin closer for a deeper kiss. He heard the thud of the bow at their feet, hands coming up to rest against his cheeks and pull him closer.  
It was perfect, for a moment, just the feeling of kissing Robin. That was, until he was being pushed away. “Is something wrong?”

Robin held his arm close to his chest, his expression...hurt for some reason. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to ruin the mood, I just…”

“Please, I’d rather you let me know what’s on your mind.”

There was silence between them for a minute. “...Would it...would it really matter if Chrom knew we were together?” Robin wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Frederick felt his heart pang.

“Is this about what I said earlier? Of course it wouldn’t matter, Robin. It doesn’t bother me if he knows - it might even make things easier. I was just...surprised.” 

Robin met his eyes again. “Surprised?” He prompted.

“Yes. Although it wouldn’t bother me if he did know...I would prefer that I was at least _present_ in the telling.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence. “ _Oh_. Of course, Frederick, I would never-without you, I mean.”

Frederick smiled reassuringly. “I know you wouldn’t.”  
  
Robin grinned back. “So we can tell him? Or would you prefer to wait a while?”

“We can tell him as soon as we return, if you’d like. I’d prefer to finish our day out first, though.”

Robin grinned for only a moment before his expression turned pensive, a finger curling at his lip. “Hmm.” He looked around at their mess. “You know, there are other weapons in that shed…”

-

Robin and Frederick faced each other in a wider portion of field not too far from the archery area, wooden shortswords in hand as they sized each other up. Frederick swung his sword lightly, testing its weight in his hand. It was light; probably made of oak, which meant that he would have to be careful with the force he put into his swings. He was too used to working with heavy weaponry.  
“You’re not going to hold back this time, are you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt you…” Robin teased, one eyebrow raised.

“You shouldn't worry about that; you couldn’t even if you tried.”

“Is that a challenge, my good knight?” He punctuated his query with a bow, flourishing his sword like a royal wave.

“It’s a promise, my dearest.”

They met eyes. “We’ll see about that. No more talking.”

Frederick brandished his sword. Robin ran at him. 

He thought that Robin would come for his left side, but he used his smaller stature to hit Frederick quickly in the knees right at the nerve, sending a nasty feeling all the way up his legs as Robin returned to hit him in his wielding arm.  
Unfortunately for him, he’d overestimated the time Frederick would take to recover, and was greeted with a parry that nearly sent him skidding across the grass. They met eyes and it was all fire between them, Robin meeting his strike with decent force and then pulling it back as fast as it had entered. Frederick had seen that trick before, though.  
He stood straight and took a gamble on where Robin would turn next. He was correct. Before Robin could make his next attack, Frederick was on him, swinging downwards in a chopping motion; it was all he could do to deflect the attack.  
Frederick released the pressure and swung again, again, again, and Robin was retreating quickly. Without all of Frederick’s clunky armour on, though, it was easy enough for him to follow. 

Frederick had him. He definitely had him. It was a matter of seconds before he would catch Robin before he had a chance to defend.

And then, Robin was gone.

Frederick whirled around wildly, looking for any sign of him, but there was nothing; not even a sound. Where could he have hidden? It was field everywhere. A hand gripped his left wrist from behind, and he turned at it, only to have his sword batted out of his right hand. Robin’s sword came up against his neck. 

“Any last words?” Frederick laughed breathily at that, smoothing his hand up Robin’s arm in a way that was loving only for a moment. Gripping his forearm, he pulled backwards, and turned him fiercely. There was hardly the time to get any satisfaction out of Robin’s surprise before Frederick kneed him in the legs. Robin fell, and Frederick reached out his arm to catch him, only to be pulled down, much to his own surprise, on top of Robin.

And there they were, Frederick on all fours on top of a _very_ smug Robin, who lay sprawled out beneath him. Even without trying, he was so surprising, so _beautiful_ , leaving a trail of desire that trickled up Frederick’s chest and into his brain.  
He was completely at a loss; should he ask how Robin had hidden from him? That and, similarly, ‘ _How does your mind work’_ were probably too strange questions to ask, and not easy to answer at that, but Frederick wanted to know with a ferocity he didn’t realise prior that he was capable of. 

Frederick’s adrenaline was still pumping. He tried to think of the right words to say, but the hunger in his gut consumed him entirely. He leant down and kissed Robin desperately, grunting when he felt arms wind around his neck. He pulled Robin upwards until they were sitting, chest-to-chest, and sucked at his lower lip, hands moving lower until they bunched at Robin’s waist.

Robin’s hands went to Frederick’s chest, and he thought he was going to be pushed away again, where instead they explored him, hungrily roaming the lines of his shoulders, pectoral muscles, and all the way down to his stomach. He felt Robin gasp into his mouth.  
Frederick wanted more. He kissed and kissed Robin, but he still couldn’t satiate the desire within him. Too soon, Robin’s kisses slowed, and he detached to breathe deeply. “Robin,” Frederick said, and he recognised how hoarse he sounded.

“Mm,” Was all Robin could say, tucked into the crook of Frederick’s shoulder.

Words still evaded him. He leant down to kiss Robin’s jaw. Lower, lower, he kissed. He licked a line up Robin’s collarbone, and sucked at the skin at the base of his throat. Robin clawed at his hair and gasped breathlessly, pulling him closer. They fell backwards, Robin’s head turned upwards, exposing his neck further for Frederick to make a mess of him. 

Hearing Robin’s breath hitch, feeling the way he begged for more with every tug of his fingers, was addictive. He was thrilled about how sensitive Robin was to his touch. 

“Ahh, Fred-hah - stop,” Robin patted Frederick’s shoulder and he rose. They shared a heated gaze.

“You don’t like it?”

“I like it - you’re just gonna make me... _you know_ …” Robin still sounded breathless.

“I don’t know, actually.”

“When you-at my neck like that, it feels…” Robin flailed his hands in favour of explaining with his words.

“It feels…” Frederick was determined to make him finish a sentence. After that dramatic confession weeks ago, he had shown himself to be surprisingly emotionally stunted.

“ _Good_.”

“Then we are stopping _why_?”

“Because!” Robin folded his arms across his face and mumbled something into them.

“I can’t hear you, Robin.”

“ _It turns me on, okay?”_

Frederick couldn’t stop himself from smiling widely. “That was the intention.”

Robin removed his arms from his face in surprise. “Then...you want to…” He seemed to be searching Frederick’s eyes for something. “ _Here?!”_

“What?” There was a beat of silence. “Oh, Gods, no! Not here. It’s cold!”

There was a sigh of relief. “Okay, good.”

“Then, you don’t want to…”

“Oh, no, I do. I do. Just, here is a bit…”

“Then we’re on the same page.”

“Yes, absolutely.”

Frederick sat up. The mood was most definitely gone. Robin held his hand out, and Frederick took it, pulling Robin up to stand as he stood.

Robin dusted himself off. “There’s somewhere else I want to take you. Shall we?”

-

Not too far from the training grounds, they headed where the grass grew thicker and greener. Sunlight fell scattered through the trees’ kaleidoscope, and Frederick wondered, not for the first time, about learning how to paint.

Robin’s fingers twisted in his as he led him further out. His hair was ruffled from all the fighting and the kisses, but it still looked silky soft. “Have you ever thought about growing your hair out?” Frederick was going to ask if he’d ever had it long before, but caught himself.

“Hmm...I don’t know, really.” His head tilted to the side as he thought about it. “I’ve never really considered getting it cut, but I don’t really know what would suit me.”

Frederick wondered, too, what Robin’s hair would look like long. Curly hair was harder to imagine, but still, he said “I think it would look beautiful on you.”

Robin turned his face to Frederick, still walking, and his dark eyes reflected the fleeting art of the sunlight while his lips pursed in amusement. “Maybe I’ll think about growing it out, then,” He replied noncommittally. “This isn’t where we’re going - just a stop-off, okay?”

Wild grass and cattails followed mossy rock aside the riverbank, running water and the spring breeze the only sounds which could be heard for miles out. Encasing the bank in its shadow was an old, leaning willow; green leaves low enough that they brushed against the surface of the water. Robin detangled his fingers from Frederick’s, moving ever forward until he disappeared into the willow. Frederick felt like a sailor bewitched by a siren, his legs following Robin automatically into the unknown.

When Frederick caught the first bunch of leaves with his forearm, lifting it above his head so it didn’t smack into his face, something caught onto his shirt and wouldn’t let go. In a matter of seconds, he was tugged forward; propelled mostly by his own surprise, and stumbled into another kiss. 

Robin threaded his hands through Frederick’s hair, tugging at the shorter strands at the back of his head as he kissed him languidly. Frederick grumbled into his mouth, and felt Robin smile at that, breaking the kiss early. Frederick held Robin close, still; memorising the way his skin looked, where his ear curved. He licked underneath it experimentally, and Robin gasped. “You’re so sensitive here.” He could have kept his mouth shut, but Robin scoffing and pushing him away was too worth it.

“Stop teasing me.”

Frederick spread his arms wide in a ‘what’ pose. “I like that you like it.” He could feel his grin spread to his ears when Robin turned on his heel.

“This is where I first trained under Libra,” He mentioned pointedly, ending _that_ conversation there.

“To purify water?”

Robin shook his head, bracing his hand against the trunk of the willow as he peered out in the direction of the river. “To heal.”

“You can heal, too?” Frederick waited for Robin’s confirmation. “Any other talents I should know about?”

Turning a cheeky smile in Frederick’s direction, Robin only replied with, “Buy me dinner first, and we’ll see.”  
Frederick rolled his eyes, and walked past Robin to sit where the tree met the river. Soon enough, he heard rustling next to him, and felt when Robin rested his head on Frederick’s shoulder. “Speaking of, do you hurt anywhere?”  
Frederick hummed in confusion, and after a minute, pressed his leg. He let out a hiss; a bruise was definitely forming there where Robin had struck him. Robin looked at him seriously. “Let me see it,” He said.  
He was a little embarrassed about undoing his trousers, but Robin was all business; inspecting the area with the pads of his fingers for tenderness. Frederick winced. “I’m so sorry, Freddy,” Robin said, and he looked crestfallen.

He lifted Robin’s chin with index finger and thumb so they could meet eyes. “It is merely a bruise. It will heal in due time.”

Robin’s jaw set. “Let me heal you.”

Frederick stopped himself from rolling his eyes at Robin’s dramatism. “Fine.”

He expected coolness, for some reason, but Robin’s hands were sweltering hot on his knees as they dragged downwards. Frederick watched, fascinated, as they lit up in a faint blue glow and lightly massaged the affected area.  
It took a little while, but Robin was silent, and Frederick took his cues from there, not knowing how hard Robin had to concentrate for it to work.  
“There,” he said finally, and the pain was, indeed, gone, but Frederick wasn’t sure if that was placebo or not. 

“Thank you,” he responded anyway.

“You know,” Robin’s eyebrow raised suggestively, “you have _very_ nice legs.”

Frederick considered his legs. They were not something he commonly put a lot of thought into; sturdy and hairy as they were. “I bet you say that to all of your patients.”

“Not all of my patients are horse riders.”

“Now you have me wondering if you asked to heal me just to take my clothes off.”

“Ah, you caught me.” Robin responded breezily, his eyes following down very deliberately from Frederick’s face to his chest and lower.

Frederick caught Robin’s chin, forcing him to look up. “Can you wait until we get back to the castle before you give me bedroom eyes?”

“Why, is it working?”

Instead of goading him, Frederick scoffed, getting back onto his feet and fixing his dresswear. “Let’s move on to our next destination, shall we?”

-

Robin had insisted on walking the next part of their journey, but it was turning out to be quite a ways away. They weren’t in a hurry, though - Frederick found it hard to adjust to the relaxed pace after working non-stop for the past couple of weeks. Time ticked on as they talked about anything. He found he wanted this time to last forever. There was something so intriguing about Robin - perhaps the way he flipped Frederick’s perspective on absolutely everything, or maybe it was just the tone of his voice that melted his heart like butter. More than once, Frederick found himself lifting Robin’s hand to press a kiss to it as they talked, or pulling his waist close so they could be touching.

It was still in the better hours of the afternoon, and the hill they were on sloped downwards into a bright village that seemed to encapsulate summer despite the cool April weather. Pale cobblestone paths seeped into a clear, flowing river that cut the town in two. A waterwheel was affixed to a building on the edge of town, turning steadily - it seemed to set the pace of the scene, people walking leisurely in its time; even the birds perched on the fences chittered together with no sense of urgency. 

“Libra and I actually came here for supplies, once, but there was one thing I never got to try.”

Frederick finally turned away from the town. “Which was?”

Robin pulled Frederick by the hand, walking backwards down the hill. “You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

Within the town, it was so sunny that Frederick had to squint his eyes to adjust. Chatter was minimal, becoming background noise to walking hand-in-hand with Robin. On the way, they had struck up a conversation about the best strategic team to bring along on a journey to an unknown land.

“It would be a _terrible_ idea to bring fliers out to unknown lands. Do you know how fast your defence would fall once they spot you?”

“Surely their capability to maneuver over any terrain with speed outweighs the need for defence. We wouldn’t be defending anything; rather, attacking. They’d give us a birdseye view of any great threat ahead.”

“Maybe in terrain we knew well enough, that would be an advantage. But the fact that we don’t know where we are means that any enemy unit has an automatic land advantage over us; and that includes the fliers. They’d be shot down before they had the chance to spot the enemy, let alone before they had the chance to warn us.”

Frederick’s mouth twitched with irritation. “We couldn’t know for certain, anyhow; it’s just a hypothetical.”

“Freddy.” Robin pointed at his own chest decisively. “I’m a tactician. It’s my _job_ to deal in hypotheticals.”

As Frederick was about to give a smart retort, his train of thought was interrupted by a scream. 

They both whipped their heads around to the west, where the sound was only getting louder. Almost instinctively they ran over to where a young girl in a lacy formal dress was still emptying her lungs by the riverside. Strangely, nobody was in the area except them. When the girl spotted Frederick and Robin, her shapeless screams turned into words.  
“Help, please, you have to help!”

Robin put his hands on the girl’s shoulders, bending down to her height. “What’s wrong?”

“He can’t swim, my brother - he’s in the water, he-” She hiccupped, pointing to the river.

There was no sign of anybody under the water, and that put dread in Frederick’s gut. Before he thought about it, he had kicked off his shoes and was diving into the river.

Straining to keep his eyes open, the water was thankfully relatively clear, and he spotted a red lump within seconds. He dove towards it, grabbing at the shape, which felt fleshy under his fingers. He sped to resurface.  
Out of the water, he lay the redheaded boy on the cobblestone. He didn’t appear to be breathing. The girl was only crying more, but Frederick tuned it out, pressing firmly into the boy’s chest with the heel of his hand. Feeling no response, he tried breathing air into the boy’s mouth. Still nothing. The wind was peaceful but all he could feel was the water roaring echoes in his ears as he tried to save the boy’s life. 

He was all but ready to give up when he was headbutted and subsequently spat all over with river water. Only in that moment did Frederick come back to the human realm; realising he was sodden and freezing all over, and weak with the passing of his adrenaline rush. He sagged as the redheaded boy coughed and spluttered all over the place. 

Suddenly, his vision was far too crowded. The girl came in the gap between the boy and Frederick to embrace her brother, and Robin put a slow hand to Frederick’s shoulder. They met eyes and all that was on his face was shock. “I’ll go get help.” He said with a lot more determination than his face spoke. Frederick nodded at him anyway.

Frederick could not have told you how much time passed between the moments Robin left and came back. He felt silly for not having kept an eye on the children, but they hadn’t much moved since the girl took her brother in her arms.

A middle-aged woman followed quickly in Robin’s shadow, gasping when the children came into her view. “How in Naga’s name did you end up this way? Thea, leave Nico be. I’ll carry him inside.” The woman shooed Thea away, hooking her arms beneath Nico’s back and the inside of his knees. She cast her eyes to Frederick. “You’d best come, too, hero. We’ll get you a towel and a change of clothes.”

Robin helped Frederick up with an “Are you okay?”, his arm wrapped tightly around Frederick’s shoulders as he stood. He could only nod numbly, his hands still shaking with the cold. Robin took Frederick’s hands in his own and tried to draw up friction as they walked. 

Another blip in time happened while they were following the woman; somehow Frederick knew that the large cottage they were stepping into had not magically appeared in front of them, but his mind had been elsewhere for the journey.  
Now, everything seemed all too real, the red brick walls close enough that he could see its raised, bumpy texture as he passed.

The layout of the cottage was jarring; the kitchen at the front of the house curved around a bay window, leading open-plan to a spacious living area with a tiled hearth. Rugs and throws fell mismatched in a way that was not-quite like Robin’s bedroom.   
A hand on his back maneuvered Frederick eastward, past a heavy door into a tiny bathroom. The owners were clearly rich enough to own a bathtub, and it took up most of the space in the room; the sink and toilet squeezed in as an afterthought to the luxury of the tub. 

“...going to take this off now, okay?”

“Hm?” Frederick looked down, noticing Robin, who had his fingers hooked in the top button of Frederick’s shirt.

Robin looked up at him, concern lighting his eyes. “You’re soaked through; Frederick. We need to get your clothes off before you catch your death.”

“Oh, right.” He let Robin thread the buttons through their holes, watching fascinated as his nimble fingers worked quickly. 

“Are you all right?” Robin asked as he shrugged the material off Frederick’s shoulders. It hit the ground with a wet smack.

“I’m okay. I think I’m just in shock.”

Robin gave him a tight smile. “You did amazing out there.” He plopped a towel on Frederick’s head, reaching up on his tiptoes to rub his hair dry.

Frederick bent his head low to accommodate the height difference. “I thought I’d lost him.”

The towel dropped from Frederick’s hair to his shoulders, and Robin wound his arms around Frederick there. He sank into the embrace, sapped of energy. “You saved his life. Remember that, okay?” It was phrased more like a statement than a question, but Frederick nodded anyway.   
“Get yourself out of those pants. I’ll grab your change of clothes in the meantime.”

Frederick wanted to ask Robin not to leave, but he supposed that might be inappropriate in a stranger’s home, no matter how innocent he intended the gesture to be. Instead, he focused on toeing off his shoes, and rolling down the trousers which stuck to every part of him. He sat on the edge of the bathtub to dry his legs, and was rubbing between his toes when there was a knock at the door.

It opened a crack, and a brown arm threaded through, dangling what Frederick could only assume was a full outfit. “Do you want a cup of tea?” Robin asked from behind the door.

He meant to answer with a ‘yes’, but what came out was a muttered “You could always come in, you know,” as he grabbed the fabric from Robin’s hands. 

He heard the smile in Robin’s voice. “Remember what I said about buying me dinner first? Get dressed before I change my mind.”

“I’ll take that offer of tea,” Frederick realised he was smiling, too.

-

The clothes fit a little snugly, but surprisingly well for something borrowed. Not having much option for his wet things, he had squeezed out the fabric into the tub and jammed them into his knapsack, probably ruining his supplies.  
Frederick padded out into the living area where the hearth had been lit. The young boy (Nico?) was sitting at its edge in his underclothes, bathing in the heat.

Robin was sat on one of the kitchen counters in a way that Frederick would have blanched at the rudeness of, had the woman who owned the house not looked so animated in her conversation while she prepared several teas.

"And that's when I entered the canopy, and saw the state of the thing - daisies, for a wedding? It looks like they gathered the decor at the _farm_. But of course, that's why I wasn't included in the wedding planning."

Robin appeared to consider this for a moment. "There's charm in the world around us, though, isn't there? I think a nature themed wedding is a nice idea."

The woman threw her hands up in surrender. "Well, my husband offered them 12,000 gold pieces for the reception, but what do I know? It is their day, I suppose."

Robin whistled at that. 12,000 gold pieces was a small fortune - you could buy a home outright for that kind of money. "Did they use all of it?"

"They wouldn't even take it! Can you believe that?" The woman braced herself against the kitchen sink as if the thought physically hurt her.

"From what you've told me, yes I can." There was dry humour in his tone that didn't quite reach a laugh. "It seems like they're happy, though. That's a good thing; isn't it?"

The lady turned, her lips pursed, finally noticing Frederick. "I suppose it is. How are you holding up, hero?"

"Please, Frederick is sufficient. I am doing just fine."

Robin leapt off the counter, making his way towards Frederick with a steaming mug in his hands. "How do you feel about going to a wedding?" He asked as he passed the mug over.

Frederick held the mug close to his chin, feeling the warmth of the steam wash over him. "A wedding? Shouldn't we be consulting a physician?" He nodded over to the young boy, who appeared surprisingly content beside his sister.

"The physician is at the wedding," The woman specified, "in fact, most of the town is. It would be good to go and get you looked over, and get some food in you."

"I wouldn't want to interrupt the ceremony." 

"The ceremony ended this morning; we'd be going to the afterparty."

Frederick fumbled for an excuse to refuse. He went to sip at his tea, before realising it was still piping hot.

Robin put his hands on Frederick's bicep. "Please, Freddy? It would give me peace of mind if a professional at least looked you over."

"Plus," the woman added on, "I'm sure that their parents would like to thank you personally. You saved a life." She gestured towards the children at the hearth.

"They're not your children?" Frederick felt his stomach bottom out. He had trusted this stranger with two children's lives.

"Oh, no. All of my kids are grown up. These are my grandchildren."

Unbidden, Frederick felt the suspicion creep up on him. He supposed he ought to assess the situation and make sure the children were indeed in good hands. "All right, then. We'll go after I finish my tea, I suppose?"

-

To say that the whole town had been invited to the afterparty would not be an exaggeration. The marquee was massive, stretching out a few acres across the moorland. Even from a distance, merry music could be heard.  
Surrounding the moor, trees hugged the landscape like a curtain, filtering into the sky where the clouds travelled in queues. Frederick thought he might want to take a walk here later in the day.

Finding the town physician proved more difficult than expected, sifting through crowds of dancing locals and children running between their legs.  
Huge vases sat on columns lining the length of the tent, filled with white daisies. At the far end, a band was playing heartily. It was easy to spot the newly married couple; dressed the most formally, they danced not far from where the band was set up.  
Frederick allowed himself to be led by Robin's hand while he digested the scenery. 

"Sorry to bother you on your day off," The lady they were here with (Anne, he had learned,) patted a man on the shoulder in the far east wing of the marquee.

He stood, and he was tall; spindly at that. His brown bowler hat matched his suit with cream sashes across each. He cradled Anne's hands in a long greeting as he spoke, "It’s never my day off. How can I help?"

"Nico decided to go and play by the river instead of following the group to the party." Anne eyed Nico with irritation. "He would have drowned if not for the help of this kind gentleman."

The physician sized up Frederick, and his eyes were not unkind as he said "Let's take this outside, shall we?"

-

Nico was just fine, but barred from playing near the river indefinitely, and assigned to a few days of bed rest - told to come back if he felt unwell or had ringing in his ears after his rest period was over.

Frederick let the doctor give him a basic examination. He didn't much care for doctors - those kinds of amenities hadn't been available for him as a child, and home remedies with bed rest suited him just fine unless his bones were broken. 

"You're a healthy man, Mister Frederick; just in shock." The doctor looked to Robin, perhaps sensing Frederick's discomfort, and told him "He should be fine. Make sure he's wrapped up warm and that he gets his bed rest - especially if he starts shivering." Robin nodded like the man was spouting gospel. Interesting - Frederick hadn't pegged him for the type to take much stock in any kind of authority. 

Frederick thought they might be free after that, but Anne quickly ushered them to meet the bride and groom.  
The picture of honest folk, the bride took Nico in her arms, and Thea went to clutch at the groom's leg. They thanked Frederick an uncomfortable amount, and sent him to eat his fill at the buffet.

In spite of that order, Robin ended up piling far more onto his plate than Frederick did, talking animatedly about the perks of free food. He went silent when Frederick pointed out that all of Robin's food was free in the castle.  
They ate together in a merry fashion, anyway; Frederick let Robin talk, only interrupting to hum in agreement at the right times.   
The natural light coming through the marquee seemed to be waning, and Frederick found himself asking if Robin wanted to wander for a little while before they went home. Robin was only too happy to oblige.

Not too far from the moor were some acres of hilly farmland, separated not just by colour but by small, rickety fences that looked like they had seen better days. Under the sunset, the farmland looked like a place in which time ceased to exist.  
Between two seas of yellow and green, Frederick and Robin walked a dirt path along the edge of a fence that sloped downwards with the earth. Where the land fell, the trees were so far away that they appeared as a wall of black forest among a comforting backdrop of more hills. It was easy to pretend the land was infinite. In some ways, it felt that way. The soil was wisened with old age; forests full of secrets Frederick was content to let them bear. For a moment, all he wanted was to watch the world go by with Robin at his side.

Despite how sure he was that the moment would be eternal, their time together did come to an end with the passing of the sun.  
Robin steered the horse back to the castle, because Frederick was exhausted.   
On the edge between sleep and conscious thought, Frederick recalled something. “Robin, where were we meant to go today?”

Robin’s back went still. “Crap. Don’t worry Freddy, we’ll make it next time.”

-

Back in his bedroom, Robin was just about ready to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. When he fell back, though, his back hit something hard and pointy. He reached beneath him, his eyebrows scrunched in discomfort.

Ah. The fairytale from the night before. He didn’t remember finishing it, so he could pick up where he left off…  
Robin turned to his nightstand to find a match so he could light his reading lantern. Sitting atop it was another book - one he’d forgotten about almost as soon as he’d left it there. _Tales of the Creation._ Robin chucked the fairytale to the ground beside his bed, lighting his lantern and picking Frederick’s book up. Again, there was that magnetism. He needed to know what was inside. Actually opening the book and reading the words proved much more difficult, though. 

_Tales of the Creation_ was written almost like an old government policy book, or a war recount. It spoke of the Creation as if it were a political figure, the places it destroyed named as well as people who fought it. It was somewhat draining to read, just because it played out like a timeline of events with no focal plot points, foreshadowing or resolutions.  
Robin skipped to the last chapter. His blood turned cold.

_Old Ylisse, Doomed Timeline_

_Thus the Creation melded with Man and fell in love with a knight of Ylisstol, and they promised to be married, (on the Tenth day of the Sixth month of that year,) but tragedy struck the land in war, the mighty castle of Ylisstol was reduced to rubble, during which time the betrothed knight lost his life. In a rage, the Creation rose out of His human vessel and became scaled, and became large, and became red-hot._ _  
_ _With an awesome hand He destroyed the mighty castle of Ylisstol, and with great lightning the capital city, and with undead men the country of Ylisse._ _  
_ _In the ruins of Ylisse, He stretched His arm and made a bridge to the past, but His heart was made of rock and He could not complete it._ __  
_Naga saw His suffering, and the suffering of the people of Ylisse, and gave Her heart in order to correct the bridge. It was finished, and the children of Ylisse and the Creation leapt through. Naga could not follow through a bridge made of Her heart, so she stayed to care for the survivors, saying:_   
“My former self will surely correct this error.”

Robin slammed the book shut. Something about it made his heart ache and wail. He was sure he was going to have nightmares, but he was so tired that he closed his eyes anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter mostly exists because of ao3 user cicholscockring whose sweet comments inspired me to write 8k in two weeks after a seriously long period of stagnation.
> 
> i slightly gave up on this fic for a while because i fell out of love. then i realised i had enough to offer the world all by myself. so here we go again. 
> 
> inspirations for this chapter include: all for the game, magic soup, some random video on youtube about waterwheels, and the kojiki.
> 
> fun facts: i actually had no real plan for robin’s scar when i first wrote about it in the first book - i actually just wanted frederick to be horny right off the bat but then i thought better of it. i played with a few concepts on its relative importance but by now i know exactly where i’m going with the whole story.  
> two characters in this chapter accidentally had their namesake from three houses characters - respectively named after a coworker of mine and an advertisement i couldn’t get out of my brain. if not for simon pointing it out to me in the draft i would never have noticed.
> 
> disclaimers: i am not a medical professional. i have never been to a wedding.
> 
> for cicholscockring, whose tweets about frederick's boobies remind me i'm not the only one thinking of a side character in fire emblem awakening.  
> for simon, who stays up to listen to the stories i make up on the fly at 3am when i have writers' block.  
> for ally, who i still think about despite everything.  
> for my grandfather, who after three years is still on my mind most days. may his memory be a blessing.


	3. interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi there's nothing poetic i can say about this chapter it's just porn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: NSFW (obviously)

INTERLUDE

APRIL 16TH

Frederick awoke before the sun had risen; earlier than his usual time. There was a reason for that, though: his banging headache. His throat felt like sandpaper whenever he swallowed. For as long as he lay and contemplated his own suffering, he tried to trick his body into feeling comfortable enough to go back to sleep by not swallowing for as long as possible. He always ended up giving in, though, and the feeling of the bile sliding down his raw throat felt impossibly worse.  
After about half an hour of feeling sorry for himself, Frederick rose slowly, his back curling into a seated position. He felt like he'd aged forty years.    
He made himself get out of bed, and no sooner than he stood did he find himself having to sit back down again; overcome with dizziness. It was yet another half an hour before he managed to get up for good.

Getting dressed was not so much of a challenge once Frederick was on his feet. He made his way to the staff kitchens, hoping nobody would be making use of the area and was relieved to find it empty. His footsteps echoed on the flagstone. He followed the light of his oil lamp, the sun hardly peeking the hairs on its head over the horizon.

A cup of water was his goal. And if that didn't make him feel any better, a mug of tea. Frederick had the uncomfortable feeling that he'd probably be devastating the castle's tea supplies in order to stay functioning for the next couple of days.  
His hand shook as he dipped his cup into a pail of water in the pantry. Half-sitting against the kitchen counter, he was forced to take his sipping slowly.

The thought of tea sounded perfect, but it turned into a gargantuan task as time ticked on. Frederick's arms felt like they were weakening - it was enough effort to get up and place his mug into a basket for washing. Another hour in bed would definitely not go amiss.

Some natural light was finally filtering in through the castle’s stained windows; the corridors bathed in reds and yellows where Ylissean vistas projected oddly onto the ground. Usually, Frederick coveted this view - it was one of the first things that had transfixed him when he was brought here.  
He had been too nervous to sleep on his first night, and rose with the sun to take a walk before his morning duties. The way the light made Ylisstol castle look in the wee hours was enough to make someone believe that the gods were grazing it with their blessings.  
From then on, he woke early - it gave him time for additional tasks, but walking those corridors while hardly anyone was around had given him a sense of belonging. At this time, the castle was his; nobody but the stained glass watched him - and it was good at keeping secrets.

Right now, though, Frederick let the wall hold him up as he ambled down those same corridors. His quarters seemed to be a world away.   
It was only a moment he stayed still, braced against the wall, before Janine, one of the cleaning staff, found him.   
She was an older member of staff; having worked in the castle for longer than Frederick had. She took a shine to him thanks to all of the time they ended up spending together, and because he knew his way around a meal.

"Frederick! What in Naga's name happened to you?"

"I'm fine, Auntie," He spit out, but even  _ he _ could tell that he wasn't. His head was swimming.

"None of that. I'll go and get you some help." She smacked him lightly on the shoulder as she turned to pace down the corridor back the way she came.

Frederick decided he'd sit down since he'd probably be here a while.

-

Not as long as he'd expected later, Libra came walking down the corridor behind Janine; arms moving back and forth sharply in a businesslike motion.

He crouched in front of Frederick, placing the back of his hand against Frederick's forehead. "You have a fever," He said accusingly, "Why didn't you stay in bed? Or, come to me?"

Frederick laughed once dryly. "To bother you at such an hour with the common cold? I'll be fine, I just need to get back to work."

Libra scrunched his eyebrows in obvious irritation. "You'll do no such thing. I will promptly be waking the Exalt to tell him that you are out of commission for the next three days  _ at least _ ."

"Three days?!" He would have spoken louder had his throat allowed.

"And I shall add more if you argue with me. Come on; get up." Libra threaded an arm under Frederick's armpit, supporting him as he stood.  
Frederick noted that, as lean as Libra's graceful movement made him seem, their biceps were almost identical in size, and Libra's shoulders were huge, at that. Frederick let himself lean his weight on Libra, solid as he was. 

He quickly noticed they were not going in the direction of his own room, but of Libra's office; adjacent to his bedroom. Frederick went to argue, but remembered Libra's warning.

"I would prefer to take you to my room, really; you need to rest in a proper bed, but it's too cluttered to be comfortable at the moment." He explained after nobody had asked, fetching keys from under his belt with his free hand.

Frederick had been inside Libra's office many times, mostly to visit new recruits - to lecture them for their rashness or commend their bravery. Despite the fact that he sustained injuries of his own, he'd never once set foot in Libra's office for his own purposes, preferring to have Lissa heal him on the battlefield, and round it off with bed rest.

Libra's office was clean, but not clinical - plants and herbs lined the tables and windowsills. The chairs were thatched and draped in flowery linen.  
Frederick understood why Libra said what he did about the beds - in the office, one could only lay on a thin stretcher or the couch. Frederick wondered if that was due to limited supplies, or just Libra's personal choice.

He was seated in one of the thatched chairs, and felt grateful for being able to rest. 

Libra turned away, busying himself at his desk. “Have you been working yourself harder than usual lately?” He asked, tone laced with professional interest.

“Au contraire, I have been far more invested in paperwork than my axe of late.”

“Paperwork can still make you unwell if you stay up all night to complete it.” Libra turned around to face Frederick with some kind of metal tube in his left hand - he shook it between his finger and his thumb before lifting Frederick’s chin with his other hand. “Say aah.”   
The tube was heavy and cold under Frederick’s tongue. Libra removed it quickly to scrutinise. “Your temperature is thirty-seven point eight degrees. Do you see that?” Libra waggled the thermometer in front of Frederick’s eyes in a way that was probably meant to be chastising, as he could obviously not make out any kind of information the thermometer would bring him.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Libra looked at Frederick like he had grown a second head. “Where did you get your primary education?”

Frederick levelled his gaze. “I didn’t.”

“...Ah.”

“Any more  _ relevant  _ questions?”

“Oh, well,” Libra fumbled, turning back to his desk, “your temperature is higher than what it should be, which means that your body cannot perform the....” he waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Things are not working as they should. In order to get you back to your regular self as soon as possible, you need to rest. I will prescribe you with some anti-sickness herbs; please chew them if you feel like you are going to throw up, but do not swallow them. In the event that you do swallow some, it’s not a terrible thing, but still, come back to me. I am also packing you one of these.” Libra turned as he used a ribbon to tie a white silk bag closed. “It’s tea; packed with all of the nutrients you could want to make you better.”

“If I have some of that, I shouldn’t need to stay in bed all the time, surely - Robin and I are in the process of writing letters to the dukes about their rights after the restructure.”

Libra went from abashed to irate in a moment. “If you get Robin sick during such a crucial time as this, what happens to his workload?”  
Frederick pursed his lips.  
“I am asking you a question, Sir Frederick. Maybe your students can be taught by another knight for a week. Perhaps the Exalt is guarded by Sully rather than you while you recover. But Robin’s duties are not so easily replaced. Perhaps you should remember that.”

Frederick bristled at the implication that he was replaceable, but couldn’t deny the twinge of guilt that Libra was absolutely right about Robin. “All the same, I could get some writing done in the comfort of my own quarters; it wouldn’t be right to leave him with the brunt of the workload.”

“I am sure that he would do just fine without your help.” Frederick got the distinct sense that Libra was not talking about the letters to the dukes.

“You can just say that you don’t like me, you know,” He tested casually.

“I don’t like you.” Well, that was easy.

Frederick stood slowly, bracing his hand on the back of the chair. “You know,” he broached, “you wouldn’t be the first to question my capability due to my education, and you surely will not be the last.”

Libra scoffed. “I’m not-”

“Libra, if you have an issue with me, that’s your personal problem.” Frederick’s jaw worked. “I have proven myself more than enough times. I’d thank you not to bore Lord Chrom with your complaints, unless you wish yourself out of a job sooner rather than later. Keep your medicine, and mind your own business.”

“My issue isn’t with your education, nor is it your standard of work, so you can stop the self-important rant.” Libra pressed his index finger to Frederick’s chest. “I don’t like you because of the way you have treated Robin. And I don’t care if he has forgiven you. He has a far better nature than I in that regard.”

Frederick did a double-take. He knew, of course, that Robin and Libra were good friends. However, he had little notion of Libra’s personality, as they didn’t cross paths very often. “Whatever happened between Robin and I are our private matters.”

Libra laughed dryly. “They weren’t your private matters until your little hero’s quest to recover Robin’s memories. Why is it that you suddenly began to play the good samaritan, exactly? Decided he was worth your time after alienating him from his peers with your nasty rumours?”

“I  _ never- _ ” Frederick closed his eyes and breathed in sharply through his nose. “I was just trying to protect Lord Chrom.”

“But he isn’t the one who needed protection.  _ You  _ cannot imagine what life has been like for Robin since he woke up because  _ you  _ weren’t there.” Frederick flinched. “And what has changed, really? Your knights have seen exactly how you treat Robin. I bet you have no idea how hard it was for him to train with a sword, because  _ you  _ made the training grounds uninhabitable for him.” With some effort he recalled that Robin trained solely with Chrom - it had irritated Frederick at the time, and that made him feel all the more guilty. “He may be seeing stars because you decided to be kind, but what happens when you decide he’s no longer useful to the Exalt?”

Frederick held his arms out some measure between pleading and standoffish. “You really think that I’m so shallow?”

“From what little I know of you, Sir Frederick, you have made an  _ extremely  _ poor impression. If you want me to think better of you, then you’ll have to prove you are worth the reevaluation.”

“Anything that may have happened between us has been resolved. I have nothing to prove to  _ anyone _ .”

“Then why are you so riled up?” Libra’s comment would have been more cutting had he not shoved Frederick’s medicine into his hands and closed them. “If you have the strength to argue with me, then you have the strength to walk back to your room and put your pyjamas on.”

Frederick made a disgusted noise and evacuated Libra’s office, nearly crushing the herbs with his tight grip.

Once he made it back to his bedroom, the dizziness returned. He sat on his bed and put his head in his hands.

-

The next time Frederick woke, it was to a desperate-sounding rapping on his door. He sighed at the sun peeking through his curtains. It was definitely already noon. He got up quickly and regretted it, his vision dripping heavy and black for a moment before he could move again.

“I, um, heard you weren’t well. Sorry for getting you out of bed; it’s just, I thought I should check on you, and, well, I don’t have a key - not that I’m asking for a key. I’m just explaining myself.” Robin held a wide wooden bowl in one arm, filled with water and a cloth. Over his shoulder, a towel was draped, and in his other arm was a steaming kettle.

Frederick allowed him inside to drop his things before he spoke. “I really am all right, Robin,” He winced at how sore his throat sounded but continued anyway, “but thank you for thinking of me.” He wandered over to the other end of the room to rummage in his drawer.

After settling the bowl on a chair and the kettle on Frederick’s desk, Robin turned, a hand on his hip. “Libra told me you’d be like this.” That was odd - there was little reason for Libra to send Robin Frederick’s way. 

“Be like what?”

“I mean, you didn’t even tell him about your river incident yesterday!” Robin ignored Frederick, producing a mug out of nowhere and tugging open the silk tea pouch Libra had given him. “That’s probably why you’re unwell. I feel so bad having dragged you around yesterday after all that…” He turned to stare at Frederick accusingly. “But you still should have said something! Libra still really needs to check your ears for signs of infection, but he thinks that you’d prefer somebody else to do that. Did something happen between you two?”

Frederick took a calculated risk. “Nothing of note.”

“Stop lying to me,” Robin thrust the kettle in Frederick’s direction accusingly, “I know Libra can rub people up the wrong way. He’s mostly very polite, but sometimes he can say things...a little bluntly.”

“He doesn’t like me.”

Robin winced. “I’m sorry.”

Frederick shrugged. “It’s not your fault.” Making his way over to Robin, he opened his hand and dropped a gift unceremoniously into it.

Robin looked at it like it was alien. “What’s this?”

“The spare key to my room.”

“Why?”

“Are you going to steal from me?”

“No!”

“Kill me in my sleep?”

Robin pouted at him. “Obviously not.”

“Then take it.”

Robin seemed to give in, pocketing the key. “Will you please still let Libra take a look? His personal feelings won’t stop him from doing his job correctly.”

“Right now?”

“Shortly. I wanted to give your face a quick wash and let you have some tea first.”

Frederick felt the corners of his mouth turn upwards. “Why wash my face?”

“You’ve probably been sweating out your fever in your sleep; I thought it might help you feel refreshed.” Now that Robin mentioned it, he did feel pretty sticky. 

“All right.” Frederick conceded. Seeing Libra was not on the top of his list of activities, but he recognised that Robin was trying to take care of him.

Water fell heavily into the bucket as Robin squeezed out his cloth. He sat beside Frederick, who obediently closed his eyes. The warm cloth felt amazing against his skin - he couldn’t help but lean into it as Robin scrubbed the back of his neck.

It was undeniable how nice it was to be taken care of. Since assuming his position at Ylisstol castle five years ago, he had kept a careful distance from mostly everybody - including Chrom. He would certainly be more embarrassed if Chrom were here in Robin’s stead. Robin, though, was different. Where Frederick’s body was large and sturdy, Robin’s great mind filled in the gaps in his defences on the battlefield. More than that, Robin considered him. Other Shepherds were capable fighters, but tended to leave Frederick to fight his own battles. He felt intimately that Robin could protect him, so even next to his small form, Frederick felt safer than ever.

“Do you want me to wash your back, too?”

Frederick opened one eye to stare at Robin. “How many times are you planning to get me out of my clothes this month?”

Robin thwacked him lightly on the arm with the washcloth. “I’m just trying to help!”

“Mm, I’ve heard that before.” He began flicking the buttons of his shirt undone anyway, watching the way Robin’s eyes followed his hand movements. “I have to warn you,” Frederick continued in a low voice, “that if you try anything, I will not stop you, but I  _ have  _ been informed I have a temperature of thirty-seven point eight degrees, so I cannot promise you that I won’t pass out.” He shrugged his shirt off his shoulders as Robin laughed.

“Well, it’d make a good story,” Robin replied casually, as he stood from the bed to wet his cloth again. “Still, I shouldn't try to seduce you while you’re unwell.”

“Yes, wait until I’m at my peak.”

Robin snorted at that, squeezing excess water out of the cloth again. He sat by Frederick’s side and twisted his shoulders so that he could wash his back. Frederick felt the cloth on his shoulder blade, where Robin’s other hand slid over Frederick’s front to embrace him.

“You really are  _ so  _ huge.”

Frederick rolled his eyes to no audience. “Thank you for letting me know - I hadn’t noticed.”

Instead of the sarcastic reply that Frederick had been expecting, Robin kissed his shoulder - just a peck, but there was something incredibly intimate about it that made Frederick’s insides seize. After that, Robin moved back to scrub Frederick’s back properly. 

Too quickly, Robin was done wiping down his back. Robin stood, and pushed at Frederick’s shoulder, lowering him back onto his bed. After re-soaking the cloth, Robin did the unexpected - instead of sitting beside Frederick, he spread his knees and sat on Frederick’s lap.   
He surely felt a lot less weak than this morning, he decided as something stirred in his nether regions. He wasn’t hard - but he’d definitely have to watch himself. He didn’t have the heart to push Robin off, though - Frederick didn’t want to. Robin’s weight on him; the motion of his hands, felt like velvet.   
Frederick kept his eyes barely open by sheer force of will. He watched the way Robin lovingly tended to him, moving the cloth up Frederick’s bicep and down his chest. Frederick couldn’t help but breathe heavier as the cloth swiped over his nipples one too many times. It was only when the cloth went dangerously lower that Frederick’s eyes snapped open. “Robin.”

“Hmm?” Robin sounded a million miles away, biting his lip as his eyes glazed over.

“What was it we just discussed about not seducing me?”

Robin’s hand stopped moving. “I’m not seducing you.”

In lieu of a response, Frederick grazed Robin’s cheek with his palm. He let his thumb gently pull Robin’s lip from his teeth. Robin pressed a kiss to the pad of his thumb.

Robin hummed. He lowered his head until his hair framed Frederick’s face. “Maybe only a little.” It was barely a mumble before Frederick was being kissed.

Frederick dragged one hand through Robin’s hair, the other going to clutch at his hip and keep him there. The kiss was a lot more sultry than any they’d shared before, and Frederick leaned into it, sucking on Robin’s tongue as he massaged his neck.    
Robin kissed the corner of Frederick’s mouth, and then his chin, the corner of his jaw. “I like you so much,” He sucked Frederick’s neck, and his hands were more purposeful as they smoothed up and down Frederick’s sides.  
Taking a risk, Frederick reached from Robin’s hip to cup his ass under his cloak. When he squeezed, Robin’s breath audibly hitched.   
They kissed again, and Robin pressed his thumb against Frederick’s nipple. Frederick had played with them before when he was touching himself, so he knew how sensitive they could be, but having someone else touch him like this was indescribable. He gasped into Robin’s mouth, and Robin seemed to like that, brushing his thumb rougher against Frederick’s chest.

A loud knock at Frederick’s door made them both flinch. “Robin, are you there? It’s Libra; I’m coming inside.”

They were both frozen in horror as the door opened. “I brought my otoscope just in case. I-” Libra’s sentence very purposefully stopped.

Frederick sat up slowly, Robin still on top of him. He rested his chin on Robin’s shoulder, looking at Libra’s shocked expression through narrow eyes. “You appear to have the wrong room. You were calling for Robin - his quarters are down the hall.”

Libra squared his shoulders, and closed Frederick’s door, in the way that shut all three of them inside. “What good fortune that I found him anyway.” He said stiffly.

Robin finally regained his senses, and nearly jumped off of Frederick. Frederick’s eyes flickered downwards for only a moment - he was sporting a semi, but it wasn’t visible under his pyjama trousers; thank the gods.

“Libra, I said I’d send for you,” Robin accused breathlessly, folding his arms. He stared at the floor.

“I have an appointment at three P.M. I came to see what was taking so long.” Libra shifted his eyes to Frederick and they were unreadable.

Robin opened his mouth, probably to apologise, but Frederick spoke. “This is about my ears, right?”

“Amongst other problems.”

Frederick slid his body until he was sitting on the edge of his bed. He spread his arms out behind him. “Then, by all means; physician. I wouldn’t want to make you late for your appointment.”

Libra accepted the challenge, half-kneeling on the bed at Frederick’s side. “First I’m going to inspect the outer ear, and then I will be placing this tool,” He brought out an instrument that looked like a tiny metal hammer with a hole in the front, “into your ear to have a look at the inside. I’m not too worried about it being infected, though - you would usually have noticed any pain, ringing or oozing by now.”

Frederick’s body went cold. “Oozing?”

Libra’s eyes twinkled with humour, clearly delighting in Frederick’s discomfort. “Oh yes; that’s what happens when foolish people go playing in the water. You’re lucky there’s no blood or puss leaking out of your ears, but I’ll still need to check inside for any rashes or other complications.”

Feeling anxiety creep hotly into his stomach, he let Libra prod around in his ear, hoping desperately that there was no unseen infection.  
Silently, Libra moved to Frederick’s other side, prolonging the discomfort.  
Frederick and Robin met eyes from across the room. Robin was staring at him intently, fingers over his lip. It did nothing to soothe his anxiety.

“Well, it seems like you got lucky.” Frederick released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Next time you plan on playing the hero, don’t withhold information from your doctor.”

“You’ll have to excuse me. I was a little preoccupied.” He said, referencing their conversation from this morning.

“It seems you’re preoccupied often,” Libra dug, and took the opportunity to lean right into Frederick’s ear. “I have little hesitation about tearing your balls off whilst you sleep,” He whispered, “do not test my patience.”

Frederick decided the best course of action was silence. Libra slid off the bed and immediately became more personable. “Robin, could you come outside with me? There are a couple of things I wish to discuss with you.” Robin nodded. “And you.” Libra pointed at Frederick with his otoscope. “Drink your tea before it gets cold.

The tea was as bitter as it was lukewarm in his mouth, and felt horrible going down, but Frederick drank it all anyway.

-

APRIL 18TH 

Frederick had spent the last couple of days cooped up in his room, and it was driving him up the wall. Robin still came in a few times; sometimes while Frederick was sleeping, to do some work at Frederick’s desk. He woke sparingly, sometimes for just a few minutes, to watch Robin focus just a few feet away. There was something heartbreaking about not having the energy to get up and talk to him when he was right there.

Still, Robin would be more than a little angry to know that Frederick was violating his parole to go for a walk, so when he left, he decided to visit the horses.  
The fresh air felt nice. He walked slowly on his way to the barn, letting the sunlight hit him. He definitely felt a lot better than before.

A sword came up against his throat from behind, giving him pause. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

Frederick caught the sword between his finger and thumb and pulled it away from his neck slowly. “Milord. I was feeling a lot better, and I decided to get some fresh air.” He turned with a sheepish expression. “...Please don’t tell Robin.”

If Chrom’s eyebrows could go any higher they would have fallen off his head. “Robin, he, um...he’s taken quite a shine to you, hasn’t he?”

“Our relationship has improved some, yes.”

“I never thought I’d see the day where you two were getting on instead of bickering.”

“I’d say that we are still definitely bickering.”

Chrom smiled knowingly and considered something for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. If you spar with me for a little while, I won’t tell Robin that you left your room.”

-

Frederick felt a little like he'd wasted away in the past two days of bed rest; his axe felt surprisingly heavy in his hands when he swung it experimentally. 

Chrom, as always, held the Falchion - the thing went everywhere with him. Frederick even caught him sleeping next to it once. While he understood that it might be an object of comfort, he insisted that he found safer things to sleep next to (Chrom had tried to argue that  _ nothing _ was safer to sleep next to than a sword, but quickly realised that Frederick was not going to budge on the issue.)

Sparring with Chrom was easy, though. It had become more than a habit, as Chrom sparred more times than he had hot meals, and few others had the patience and the stamina to keep up with him aside from Frederick.   
It got to the point where it was difficult to find a clear victor - they both knew each other inside out; weaknesses and habits down to a science.

In that way, it wasn't surprising that Chrom started a casual conversation in the middle of their fight.

"When did you and Robin start getting so close?" Chrom flourished his sword, batting Frederick's axe on both sides with a grace almost like he was fencing.

"Hard to say, really; it's been a bit of a blur." Frederick swung his axe into Chrom's sword with full force, stunning him for a moment. "Around our trip to Ferox - although our relationship was unstable at that time. I don't think we truly started talking until you had your first breakdown."

Chrom looked a little wounded at that. Frederick regretted his honesty. "I'm pleased for you both, at any rate."

"I am sure it is a weight off of your shoulders."

Frederick knew that had been the wrong thing to say when he saw Chrom's affronted expression. "More than that, Frederick, I'm glad you found somebody who you get along with."

He nearly missed a parry. "Milord, I get on with you just fine." 

"Whilst I am extremely grateful for your company, Frederick, I can count the times you've opened up to me on one hand."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be sorry! I don't want you to feel forced to do so. I just worry you don't talk to anybody when you need to."

"Thank you, Milord. I don't have a lot of issues that bear a need for discussion, is all."

Chrom looked pensive. "...In light of what I just said, I don't mean to pry further, but how do you feel about him?"

"Hm?"

"Robin."

"Ah, I…" Frederick knew he was blushing. He couldn't look away from Chrom's sword, though.

"You like him?"

"I really like him."

"Have you told him?"

"We have….discussed it, yes," Frederick said awkwardly. He didn't want to go too far without Robin present, but also didn't want to lie to Chrom.

Chrom smiled easily. "Good. He was always so obvious; even when he didn't get on with you. A lot of people had the same doubts about him, and yet you were the only one who honestly got under his skin."

"I fail to see how that is a good thing."

"It shows the extent to which he values your opinions, Frederick." 

"I suppose it does."

"Try not to hurt him, okay? He's more sensitive than he appears."

It seemed as though Robin had a band of bodyguards intent on lecturing Frederick to misery. Although, it was promising that so many people so genuinely cared for him. A part of Frederick swelled with gratitude that Robin was being taken care of properly, even if it meant that Frederick had to sit through the 'don't hurt him' talk a thousand times.

Frederick still smacked the sword out of Chrom's hands, though.

-

It had only been two days, but the barn had already been messed up by interfering hands - excess hay had been left out near the horses, so Frederick took it with him on the way to the stockroom. Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he winced at the state of the supplies. 

Someone had clearly tried to clean in here. 'Tried' was indeed the operative word; saddles and reins were strewn about and tied wrongly. Pest sprays were laying on their sides instead of sitting up on the shelves, and were far too close to the horse combs for Frederick's comfort.

He set about reorganising the area. When he found out whichever clever clogs had attempted all these new design choices, he’d wring their neck. It felt good to get stuck into some work, though.

Organising the storage room helped clear Frederick’s mind. Cleaning was a bit of a pastime, as sad as that was, but putting everything in its right space felt like a form of therapy.    
Finally, everything began to look like it should have done. Frederick released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Do I need to guard you for all hours just to make sure you stay put?”

Frederick nearly jumped out of his skin, and turned at the voice. “I can explain.”

Robin gave him a small smile. He rested against the doorframe, arms crossed in mocking anger. “Don’t look so guilty; we all knew you’d come out of your room before you were supposed to. It was a miracle you stayed in bed as long as you had.”

Being so inactive had grated on him and Robin seemed to sense that. He didn’t know why he’d expected a lecture. Closing the distance between them, Frederick raised Robin’s hand to his mouth. “Am I forgiven?” 

He kissed Robin’s knuckles, who appeared to be fighting the widening of his smile. “I’ll think about it.”

-

Robin fiddled with the heavy, metal key in his pocket. Frederick gave it to him, and clearly expected him to use it - he’d hardly batted an eyelid when he awoke and found Robin in his room already.    
It was a better decision than waking him up. The man needed some rest; he was probably catching up on weeks of missed sleep. Plus, Robin had gotten used to his company while he worked.   
It still felt strange to take the key from his pocket and slide it into the lock. By doing so, he felt like he was stating something - like he had as much right to be in Frederick’s quarters as he did his own. 

Frederick had this room, as well as his mother’s house. The space he safely occupied was larger than Robin’s, so it shouldn’t feel like as much of an intrusion. But he was still anxious. After Frederick’s health got better, he would go back to knocking. Technically, the freedom this key granted was eternal, but Robin would set a limit on it - just so that he didn’t infringe on Frederick’s alone time.    
It was nice, for a while, to have reason to get up in Frederick’s space. To have access to him in his personal time; trusted to watch over him while he was unwell and sleeping - a privilege he would never have dreamt of being allowed just a few months ago. He wasn’t sure he could have imagined Frederick being sick until he was; the man was all strength and stoicism. 

Robin really liked Frederick. He liked the dry humour that slipped through the cracks of his seriousness, and how even when he lied his face was so honest like he was telling Robin the truth anyway. He liked Frederick’s strong and steady heartbeat. How he was soft but sturdy to lean on. How his body heat rolled off him in waves, but somehow his fingers were still always cold.    
He liked the way Frederick kissed and held him, as if he was something to be coveted and desired, but his eyes were still gentle; where they flittered Robin could see Frederick’s brain working hard to learn more and more until his gaze swallowed Robin completely in its dark depths.

The lock clicked as it released. The brass doorknob was cold, and stiff to turn as it always was.

  
Frederick’s bed was empty.

More than that, it was cold. The sheets were freshly changed, too. Paperwork Robin had left for later on Frederick’s desk was stacked, and the kettle he had borrowed from the kitchens was gone. 

Robin hurried out of the room, trying to keep his pace brisk but not panicked. He turned his head at every corridor, anxiously expecting to find Frederick’s body curled up somewhere. 

He rounded a corner at a cross between four corridors, watching behind him as he hurried forward. Not looking where he was going, he ran into something so solid he would have thought it was a wall if it didn’t feel so warm and smell like man sweat.

“Chrom! You have to help!”

Chrom looked guilty. Very, extremely guilty. He stepped back from Robin, holding onto his elbows. “Ah, Robin....can it wait? I really have to shower.” Robin narrowed his eyes.

“You know where he is.”

“Where who is?” Chrom laughed nervously. He stared at the wall.

Robin stomped on Chrom’s foot as hard as he could. “Don’t play games with me! Tell me where you saw Frederick.”

“Ow, Robin!” Chrom hopped on the spot, clutching his leg with a face like a wounded puppy. “He just thought you would be worried, okay?”

“I’m more worried if he’s missing. Stop avoiding my questions.”

Sullenly, Chrom scrunched his nose. “I saw him at the training grounds, on the way to the horse shed.”

Robin was already leaving, but he threw his hands up in the air anyway. “Was that so difficult?”

-

“Am I forgiven?” Frederick looked down at Robin through long, dark lashes. When his lips met Robin’s knuckles, his heart stuttered like an ancient grandfather clock breathing its last. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way his heart reacted to Frederick.

“I’ll think about it,” Robin replied, but he moved his hand up to bring Frederick’s face closer to his anyway. 

Kissing Frederick still felt like a privilege. Similarly to the key that weighed down Robin’s cloak pocket, he worried each time that he was broaching space he should not be stepping into - but every single time Frederick welcomed him like their mouths belonged together.   
Robin memorised the thickness of Frederick’s lips, the way his jaw felt under his hands; the taste of his tongue. Even if this was the last time they ever kissed, Robin would be sure not to lose the moment. Romance gave way to desperation as he clutched Frederick with the sheer force for another second by his side.

Frederick broke the kiss anyway. “Are you all right?”  
Robin marvelled at the way Frederick looked at him, as if he was seeing the sun rise from the west, and not a one-trick amnesiac holding onto the puzzle pieces of his identity with an iron grip.

“I’m okay.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you. What’s on your mind?” Frederick thumbed at Robin’s forehead as if he could pop it open and reveal its secrets.

Robin pursed his lips. “It’s silly.”

“Well, half the things you say are silly, but I still want to know them more than I want to know most things.”

“Actually, that’s exactly what I was thinking about.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I just don’t know why...you’d listen to me, or why you’d want to... _ be _ ...with me, and I can’t stop thinking about this timer that I can’t see on when this is all going to end.” Robin had stopped looking at Frederick’s face, opting to stare at his hands which had found their way to the collar of Frederick’s shirt.

“You’re right. That is very silly.”

“I  _ know _ ,” Robin sighed defeatedly.

There was silence for a while, and Robin’s heart was plummeting with each passing second. “We are both going to grow and change, Robin - you especially. Perhaps you find your memories and it builds the foundations for you to develop in a completely different direction. There is  _ nothing  _ stagnant about being alive. And maybe one day, you will let go of me, and I, of you. But even then it will be with the support of all the new people and things in our lives.”

“I don’t want to let you go.”

“Do you think I’m going to give you up that easily?” Robin met his eyes, feeling vulnerable as Frederick stared into him. “I want to keep you for as long as I possibly can. You can’t see how thrilled I am to have your attention. I don’t think you realise your own value, and how that eludes you, I will never understand - the people beside you are all committed to your wellbeing so much that I have an army to fight if I so much as prick your finger,” Frederick breathed a laugh, “you think you’re nothing because you don’t know who you were, but it’s recalled in every action. You’re strong and wise beyond your years. I don’t know exactly what your youth was like, but I could wager a pretty good guess. You are someone important, Robin. Don’t you understand that? You don’t stand by the Exalt for no reason - nobody gets that privilege by being average. I need you to understand that I am the lucky one for being yours, and that you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Robin’s heart felt full and heavy. He rested his head against Frederick’s chest, who kissed his head and rubbed circles into his back.   
"There's so much I want to say, but I don't even have the words." He mumbled into Frederick’s chest. 

"I know the feeling." 

Robin lifted his head just slightly to peer up at Frederick.  
"Hey, Freddy… You still have the day off today, right?" Frederick hummed in agreement. "What say you and I go hang out?"

"I wonder if Libra really would castrate me for violating his parole to go on a trip."

" _ What? _ " 

"Nothing."

"We don't have to...go out. We could just...stay in your room."

Frederick laughed easily. "Either you're trying to trick me into bed rest, or you're propositioning me."

"I'm propositioning you."

He laughed again, before he realised Robin wasn't laughing along with him. "Wait,  _ really _ ?"

"Mmhm. If you want to."

Frederick leaned down and pressed his next words into Robin's earlobe. "Who knew all I had to do to get you into my bed was tell you how wonderful you are."

"You really could just have asked."

Robin was excited for a lot of reasons to be dating Frederick, but spontaneity was not something he'd particularly  expected.

So, when Frederick lifted him by the ass and pinned him back against the wall, he was stunned into silence.  
Not that he had long to think of what to say before Frederick's mouth was on his again. He supported Robin's entire weight, but Robin still wrapped his legs around Frederick's back; arms laced around his neck. 

Frederick moved his mouth to Robin’s jaw, and Robin pulled his head closer, fingers threading in his hair as he sucked on his neck. Frederick could probably do this forever and Robin wouldn’t tire of it. Robin rolled his hips instinctively, and Frederick pressed their bodies even flatter against the wall. One hand moved from Robin’s ass to trail up his shirt and rub circles into his bare hip.   
With little access to much else than the top half of Frederick’s body, Robin was frustrated. He undid Frederick’s tie, casting it somewhere on the ground beside them, and opened the first few buttons of his shirt to suck at his collarbone.

Frederick squeezed his ass, setting him back down onto the ground. He kissed Robin again, and Robin let his hands wander downward, massaging his thighs. Frederick made a low sound that reverberated through Robin’s core. Finally, he moved inwards to palm at Frederick’s erection. It felt thick and stiff in his hand, and he wasn’t sure why that surprised him, but it definitely excited him. Robin was vaguely aware that they were still in the supply closet, quite far from the comfort of Frederick’s bedroom, but he was too thrilled that Frederick was letting him touch him to care. 

That didn’t stop Frederick from stepping back. “We should go somewhere more private.”

Robin did not want to stop. However, he wanted to minimise the risk of being walked in on, so he grabbed Frederick’s hand, pulling him sharply out of the supply room and practically running around the back way to their quarters.

-

Since it was the middle of the day, most people were thankfully not in the area of the castle which housed people’s bedrooms. Robin used Frederick’s key with confidence for the first time; knowing he was being watched gave him express permission to enter.

Robin made sure he locked the door behind them. As soon as the key made its way back into his pocket, he lost his nerve, feeling his guts spill into his shoes. Frederick wound his arms around Robin from the back, and his heart spiked, but slowed again at the press of a kiss to his cheek. He smiled, pulling Frederick’s face closer to his again so he could press a kiss of his own to Frederick’s jaw, cheek, and then the corner of his mouth. Frederick turned slightly so he could properly reach his mouth. Unlike in the barn, there was no hurry to his actions.

Turning around, Robin did remove his cloak, but only because it was far too warm after having run halfway across the castle grounds. Frederick sat back on his bed and pulled Robin in between his legs in a way that made Robin have to bend downwards to kiss him. It was uncomfortable after a while, so he moved, sitting forwards on Frederick’s lap with his knees spread. Frederick ran his hands up and down Robin’s thighs in a way that was probably meant to be soothing, but actually did something else.

Frederick’s shirt was still a little undone, and Robin tucked his fingers into where the neckline made a V shape, tugging at it. Frederick got the hint and finished unbuttoning his shirt, letting Robin slip it over his shoulders.   
Robin sat back on his legs, smoothing his hands over the mountains and valleys of Frederick’s chest. “I wanted to try something.”

“Mmhm?”

Robin was a bit too embarrassed to say the words, so he leant down towards Frederick’s chest purposefully, opening his mouth to lick experimentally at a nipple. Frederick threaded his hand through Robin’s hair encouragingly, so Robin took it fully into his mouth, suckling at Frederick’s breast as he used his hands to play with his other nipple.   
Robin didn’t know what he was expecting it to taste like, but it really was as innocent a flavour as licking someone’s elbow - the nipple’s texture was much more obscene, and Robin’s cock twitched as he slid his tongue along the underside.   
Frederick’s grip tightened and he leaned back a little. He let him sit in the pleasure of it for a minute, before pressing a final kiss against his nipple and pushing Frederick backwards.

Frederick angled his fall so that they were nearly vertical on the bed, and Robin took the opportunity to remove his own shirt.   
“You’re not that sensitive here, are you?” He asked, pressing the tip of his index finger against Robin’s nipple.

“I don’t know, really.”

“Can I...try?”

“Yeah, sure,” Robin said breathlessly, and was pulled down to lay at Frederick’s side; Frederick leaning over him and bracing one hand on the bed for support as he kissed and sucked at Robin’s nipple.

Robin was quite content to watch Frederick lick him, but Frederick was making eye contact - closely observing Robin’s reactions. “Nothing?”

He shook his head. “No, not really. But it is kind of nice still. I feel like a mother bird.”

Frederick cracked a smile, lowering his head against Robin’s chest. “That is _not_ the reaction I wanted.” Robin ran his fingers through Frederick’s hair in lieu of a response.

Not to be defeated, Frederick kissed lower until he was licking at Robin’s hip bones. Robin threw his hand over his mouth, trying not to wiggle under the pleasure. It got more difficult when Frederick kissed his thighs through his clothes, pressing the warm heat of the inside of his mouth closer and closer until he closed his mouth over Robin’s cock. Robin made half a noise that ended in a hiccup, balling the hand that wasn’t occupied by his mouth into the sheets. Frederick kissed and licked him, feeling the texture of his pants slide over his cock with the heat of Frederick's breath seeping through the pores of the fabric.

Frederick’s fingers paused over the button of Robin’s pants. “Can I take them off?”

The wave of anxiety crashed into Robin in full force again. “Could you...take yours off first?”

Frederick nodded without hesitation, raising up onto his knees to unbutton his trousers. Robin watched him slide them down his thighs, revealing surprisingly skin-hugging, black boxer shorts. The ends of the shorts clung to his thighs where they bulged, and, well, speaking of bulges… Frederick was incredibly impressive. He shuffled clumsily out of his trousers as if he didn’t notice that his cock was making Robin’s mouth water. 

Robin tipped over onto his front so that his head was level with Frederick’s cock. His eyes travelled slowly upwards until he met Frederick’s gaze. It didn’t waver.   
Robin buried his nose in Frederick’s crotch, kissing firmly upwards until he reached the head. Mimicking Frederick’s actions, he took his clothed cock in his mouth. Frederick barely held back his moan, his cock twitching in Robin’s mouth. Robin palmed Frederick’s ass, pulling him in closer.

“Robin,” Frederick sighed, watching him flick his tongue out to trace the tip through the fabric. He slipped his fingers under his waistband, and Robin got the message, backing off enough to let Frederick slide his shorts down his legs. 

Robin supposed he should be intimidated by the girth or the smell of Frederick’s cock, but after watching a bead of precum leak out the tip, he took it into his hands and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the underside. He made sure to look Frederick in the eye as he swirled his tongue around the tip, tasting his salty precum, before taking it as far into his mouth as it would go.

“Hah,” Frederick gasped, gripping Robin’s shoulder firmly as Robin bobbed up and down. Frederick’s other hand guided Robin’s free hand to close around his balls, and Robin played with them languidly as he took his time trying to take more of Frederick’s length into his throat. In the end, he gave up trying to deepthroat, sucking the top half as he twisted his hand at the base and thumbed Frederick’s balls. More precum dripped onto Robin’s tongue as he watched Frederick come apart.   
“Wait, Robin,” Frederick patted Robin’s shoulder, and he came up for air, feeling the unpleasant ache of his jaw. “I don’t want to cum like this.”

Robin sat back on his heels as Frederick reached under his bed, rummaging until he came up with a little jar of what Robin assumed to be lubrication. Robin felt his eyes go wide as saucers.   
“I don’t know if I’m ready for-uh,  _ that  _ today.”

“Oh!” Frederick waved his hands in a ‘stop’ gesture. “I didn’t mean that. I wasn’t planning on penetration either. I want to show you something; if you’re comfortable,” he nodded his head towards Robin’s trousers suggestively.

Robin fell back onto the bed and undid his trousers. He let Frederick slide them off with his boxers, and Frederick kissed and sucked Robin’s thighs for a short while before he took Robin into his mouth.    
The wet heat was almost impossible to bear as Frederick bobbed his head up and down at a faster pace than Robin had, his lips twisting around his girth in a way that showed off Frederick's experience. 

“Is this what you-” Robin couldn’t finish his sentence, sliding his leg up the sheets and curling his toes as he tried hard not to buck into Frederick’s mouth.

Too quickly, Frederick released Robin’s cock. “No, I just didn’t want to cum way before you did when I do this.” He popped the cap of the jar open, coating his fingers in the lube, and letting his hand hover purposefully. “It might be a little cold, okay?”

“Okay,” Robin responded. Frederick took Robin’s dick in his hand, and Robin felt his eyes roll back into his head. It was definitely cold, but only for a moment, the slide of the lube felt slick against him and made the friction of Frederick’s closed hand the perfect feeling to thrust into. Robin pleasured himself under Frederick’s touch, not caring about the indignity of being watched as he clawed for his orgasm like an animal in heat.

Frederick’s hand opened before he could get there, though, and Robin found himself once again being lifted onto his lap. Frederick put the pressure back, but this time his fist held both of their cocks, and Frederick lifted his hips to match Robin’s thrusts as he buried his head in Robin’s collarbone. The thought of their dicks pressing together tuned Robin into an even higher wave of pleasure; he twisted his hips and thrust forward into Frederick’s steady weight, using his shoulders as leverage. 

Robin’s breath became ragged, and he felt his orgasm building up in him like a jug being filled with water. He wasn’t sure who came first, but reaching his peak felt incredible as he rode out his orgasm, covering Frederick’s abdomen with his cum.

“Fuck,” Robin sighed, collapsing against Frederick’s sticky chest. They stayed that way for a minute, although they were both uncomfortably hot, regaining their breath. Frederick put his arms around Robin’s back, lifting him to lay him flat against the bed. He pecked Robin on the lips once, and stood to wipe himself off with a towel.

He quickly tended to Robin, too, before he lay back down next to him. “Nap?”

Robin was already on the verge of sleep when Frederick slid the sheets over him. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have nothing to say for myself except this is maybe the first time i've ever written porn so please be patient with me  
> i definitely planned to do something of that nature when i planned out book two, but this chapter did not exist in my plan... it's actually here to break up the ORIGINAL chapter 3 which i decided was too content-heavy.


	4. trust /

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling in love is easy. So is the thought of peace; the thought of forever, just like this.  
> Petty problems preoccupy our anxiety and leave the big things for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: NSFW, ALCOHOL

[TRUST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kvazBqAlx58) /

APRIL 18TH

The disorientation that comes alongside waking from a long rest was the first thing Frederick felt, temporarily distracting him from panic upon realising that the spot at his side was empty.  
He looked up, eyes adjusting to the dark, and his wild gaze calmed upon recognising Robin’s silhouette looking out of the window.  
His arms were crossed over his sides, his cloak draping over his shoulders in the cold night. Frederick could hardly make out his expression in the dark. He shifted, sliding out of bed, and Robin’s gaze fell on him as the springs creaked. 

Frederick came up behind Robin’s back, winding his arms around him and pressing his lips to his head in a silent greeting. He realised that the cloak was _all_ that Robin was wearing, and felt comfort that he hadn’t been planning to leave halfway through the night. “Been up long?”  
Robin simply shook his head, bringing one of Frederick’s hands up to his mouth, kissing his palm.  
Frederick looked out of his window, not for the first time taking in the expanse of castle garden his bedroom backed onto. Flowers planted in meticulous patterns swayed in unison with the breeze, but other than that, the night was still.

He thought about how naturally the two of them fit together, and how perfect this moment was.

There was a specific closeness that came immediately after giving your body to someone - touch, then, came easily. The gap that had been bridged between their souls was palpable, but temporary. After taking care of vulnerable parts of that person which nobody else was privy to, it felt like holding their heart in your hands.  
Robin still looked out of the window, his vacant stare showing no confirmation that he knew this fact. Frederick felt his heart beat inside Robin’s chest.

“I think this was the first time I’ve slept since I got here that I didn’t dream.”

Frederick was distinctly aware that was a _good_ thing; Robin didn’t remember his dreams ever but sometimes commented on how distressed they left him.   
“You could always sleep here more often.”

Robin let out a laugh that was more like a puff of air. “Somehow I feel like you have an ulterior motive.”

Frederick shrugged unabashedly. “Can’t I have one? This afternoon was an event that definitely bears repeating.”

“And what, you’ll allow me peaceful dreams so long as I sleep with you?” Robin teased.

“You know I’d let you sleep here no matter what,” Frederick grumbled in response.  
Robin turned, resting his face on Frederick’s chest. Hands pressed tightly against his back, pulling him in. “What do I do, Frederick?”

“About your dreams? Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.” Frederick played with a few strands of Robin’s hair at the top of his head. 

“Not about that.”

“About what, then?”

“Even like this, I feel like...I can’t get enough, like, my whole body is screaming that I’m yours, and no matter how close I am it doesn’t get any easier. When I touch you I feel like I’m melting.”

At that moment, Frederick felt a magnet drop heavily in the core of his chest, solid and pulling him with dramatic urgency. He cupped Robin’s cheek, kissing his head with enough pressure that he could pour his feelings directly into Robin’s brain. It wasn’t enough, so he tilted Robin’s head upwards and kissed his mouth hungrily.   
Robin responded with fervour, looping his arms around Frederick’s neck tightly. 

It was disorienting how you could feel completely one with someone’s body and spirit, and still have so much to prove and say to them at the same time.  
“I am not going anywhere. Let me keep you.”

Robin’s fingers trailed teasingly up Frederick’s hipbone, his thumb running circles over the muscle. He kissed Frederick again, long and slow, and his other hand moved to Frederick’s backside, pressing the two of them even closer. He couldn’t deny that something more primal was stirring in him lower down, but the aching of his heart still influenced him. He leant into their kiss, wrapping his arms around the back of Robin’s body in an ‘x’ while he dipped him to make sure he didn’t fall. Robin exposed his neck in a not-so-subtle communication, and Frederick lowered his mouth there obediently, pressing wet kisses wherever he could reach. Robin hummed in appreciation. 

Unexpectedly, he felt Robin’s hand cup his cock, stroking it firmly. He felt so sensitive when Robin touched him, possibly because the concept of it was so exciting. He was fully hard within seconds. His kisses turned sloppier as he lost concentration, allowing Robin to drive him to lose himself in pleasure. 

“Should I put it in my mouth again?”

“Yes,” Frederick choked out.

Robin dropped to his knees and pressed a wet hand to the base of Frederick’s cock while he swallowed half of him. The heat of his mouth was almost too much to bear; the texture of his lips and the inside of his cheeks dragging agonisingly against where Frederick was most sensitive. He tongued the underside, following a path all the way down as he took in even more of Frederick’s cock than he had the other day.

Not that Frederick had a great deal of experience, but Robin swallowed more of Frederick than anyone ever had. It probably took a great deal of effort, he thought, carding his hands through Robin’s hair in appreciation. It felt even better just because of the depth of affection he held.  
He’d definitely had loves before, but being with Robin felt different - like sinking and flying at the same time. His feelings were almost too much for his body to bear, and Robin was stirring him up in every way possible until he was bursting at the seams.

“Robin - I’m gonna,” the words slurred in his mouth as his body stuttered, and Robin held fast, massaging his balls as if to milk the orgasm out of him. He came in ropes down Robin’s throat.  
He released Frederick and swallowed, going back to press a gentle kiss to the head.  
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Robin, but do you have a thing about my cock?”

“I can’t believe you just said cock,” was all Robin responded as he got back up, going to sit back on Frederick’s bed in exhaustion.

Frederick felt himself flush. “Don’t change the subject.”

The moonlight cascaded down Robin’s figure like a waterfall. His lean body leant back in the air as if it was cradling him, and he pressed his hands firmly into the mattress like he was showing off. “Would it bother you if I said yes?”

“Not at all.”

“I’ve thought about you before. When I,” he began, and stuttered on it. Instead of finishing the sentence, he slid one hand over to grip his cock and pump it, once, twice, three times.

Frederick padded forward, falling to his knees between Robin’s legs. He pressed his hands flat against Robin's thighs. “What do you imagine?”

Robin was silent for a moment, considering this. His lips pouted. “Sometimes, I can get off to the thought of putting my face-” he used his free hand to glide along Frederick’s chest, “-right here. Other times, I think about putting you in my mouth and letting you fuck my face. And, sometimes…”

“Sometimes?”

His eyes were glazed over, and Frederick would have thought he’d forgotten anybody else’s existence had he not finished his sentence. “I think about you bending me over your desk and ramming me.”

“That’s obscene.”

“Too much for you, Sir Frederick?”

Frederick gently untangled Robin’s fingers from around his cock, bending down to take him into his mouth all the way down to the base. Robin squeezed his eyes shut, mouth hanging open as he allowed Frederick to end the conversation there.

-

  
  


MAY 29TH

Much changed quickly within Ylisstol Castle in the span of the two-month reform, but it had yet to reflect on wider Ylisse, Chrom thought, observing farmers tilling their fields from the hill on which he sat atop his horse.  
There was something about nature that felt so eternal, even if it wasn't. Chrom had seen trees get cut down and their roots dug out of the ground, and yet, they seemed invincible from the perspective of a single human. The farmers would grow old and wither away far quicker; their children and grandchildren replacing them. But they, too, would stand in the fields and do the same work their ancestors had before them. Even Chrom would someday be replaced, the castle walls providing a safe home for his successor as it did for him.

Only, Chrom had changed their life on account of his incompetence. In one timeline, they would rule with full monarchical power as Emmeryn and his father had. Now, they could be little more than a face for diplomacy if they wanted - or if someone else insisted on taking the role of Governor-General of Ylisse. Not that titles such as that one had a tendency to fall out of the hands of royal blood, anyway.  
To the farmers out in the fields, it was as if the crown had as much presence as that old, unchanging tree. It didn’t matter who ruled you, in many ways - just the acceptance of being ruled.

The Dukes and Lords had taken the news well, all things considered - there had been no violent reaction as they had feared; just some gripes here and there. The quiet was almost unsettling.  
The weight of the guilt Chrom wore around his shoulders was not nearly as heavy as the pressure of ruling Ylisse alone. He considered once or twice that he would have been better born a regular man; a mercenary, but could have hit himself for wishing away privileges that others would kill for.

Frederick, Robin and Lissa had been appointed official advisors to the Governor, and Sumia, after much convincing, took the title of Governor alongside her husband.  
She'd taken to the work like a duck to water, but Chrom had the suspicion that part of that had to do with how easy it was for her to coop herself up under the guise of work.  
Their relationship had improved after Chrom ceased his attempts to press her, but their touches were still brief and their conversations fleeting.  
At this point, Chrom was sure of two things: Sumia was unlikely to ever tell him what was on her mind, and that her problem absolutely concerned him. The latter was what caused his guilt. He had always been able to hold her up before, but she had clearly been going through something difficult of her own while he was having a mental breakdown.  
His friends had been there for him, but they were all going through their own trials - Sumia with whatever had been on her mind, and Robin and Frederick were busy sorting out all of the finer details of the restructure.   
Lissa had tried to step up, and Chrom appreciated the effort, but there was something too strange about confiding your deepest fears in your little sister.

Chrom had taken to riding out more often now to clear his thoughts. It was nice to be alone - something he had never thought before, and he felt like he’d aged with the realisation.  
When he was younger, he grew quickly bored with his own company - after all, you can’t spar with yourself. It was hard to find people in the castle willing to hang out with the prince, though, so Chrom often found himself sneaking off to play with local children who had no idea who he was if he dressed in layman’s clothes.  
That was how he had found Frederick’s village aflame all those years ago; on his way back from a sports match in Aerdale (which had also got him found out and promptly banned from sneaking out of the castle.) Of course, he couldn’t regret it. He had saved lives, and spending those days outside taught him more about humanity than being a prince ever had.

Behind him, the unmistakable sound of horse footfalls signalled he was being cornered. His face soured, and he called “Is somebody sending for me? Because, if not, I’m spending the rest of the day outside the castle.”

“Fine by me, so long as I can join you!”

Chrom turned so sharply at Sumia’s yell he felt his neck strain - she was the last person he expected to see. To be sought out by someone who was avoiding him stunned him silent as he gathered his thoughts. “You are the only person I’d be glad to spend today with. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I can’t come and visit my husband just because I miss him?” Sumia asked coyly, trotting over to his side as if she was unaware of the tension between them. Chrom had nearly forgotten how beautiful she was - the fact that she was talking directly to him made him feel dizzy, like he was walking on a cloud.

Chrom smiled widely; he was so happy to see her in good spirits that he didn’t care if she was avoiding the elephant in the room. “What say we find a shady spot to tie the horses and go for a walk?”

-

Sumia had threaded her hand through his, and he felt an excitement not unlike way back when they began their relationship. It’s not like they never touched each other nowadays, but it was never with the promise of longevity; not a definite feeling, much like brushing past someone in a crowd.  
Now, Sumia’s hand had every intention of staying in the warmth of his, and she looked at him with light in her eyes, fully present in their conversation. They talked about anything, providing it was shallow, and ignoring their months of tension.

Sumia’s face crumpled after a while. “Can we sit down? I’m a little winded.”

That was odd. Usually, Sumia could walk with Chrom for hours - they had even been hiking together when they had free time. “We need to get you outdoors more often. Being cooped up all the time to finish paperwork is bad for your health.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Sumia replied halfheartedly, and that distant look was back in her eyes as she lowered herself onto the grass.

Chrom was suddenly desperate for a subject change. “Hey, is that a new dress? I don’t think I’ve seen you in it before.”

The blue, frilly material swayed in the light breeze as she considered it. Her eyes focused after a moment, and she met Chrom’s gaze. “It is new.” She released a breath audibly before she continued. “It’s a maternity dress.”

The air suddenly left Chrom’s lungs. He could feel his eyes bugging out, and made a Herculean effort to breathe in. “You’re-”

Sumia only nodded, and her eyes were bright again, but she wasn’t smiling - she was assessing Chrom for his reaction.

“We’re gonna be parents?” Was all he could squeeze out before fat tears blinded his eyes. He pulled Sumia in with one arm and shielded his eyes in the safety of her neck. “Is this what you’ve been keeping from me?”

“It wasn’t the right time,” she confirmed, “I wanted to make sure you were ready emotionally.”

“I love you,” he responded, “the thought of having a baby with you makes me happier than you could possibly imagine.”

“Oh, I think I can imagine it.” Sumia sounded like she was smiling, so Chrom lifted his head to make sure he didn’t miss it. She was breathtaking.

He captured her in a kiss, for as long as it took for his brain to work, breaking it clumsily to ask “How far along are you?”

“Three and a half months.”

Chrom’s eyes wandered down to her stomach. He could see nothing out of the ordinary. She hadn’t really been changing around him lately, but after everything, it hadn’t raised any alarm bells. “Can I feel?”

“Of course you can,” She replied easily, pulling his wrist and guiding it to her stomach. It definitely felt...firm, but her abs were always prominent anyhow, so Chrom probably wouldn’t have noticed until he was told to. He still felt in awe anyway; the concept of a tiny person growing inside his wife was hard to imagine, to say the least. And yet, that’s exactly what was happening.

“Oh boy, I can’t _wait_ to tell Robin. He’s gonna be so excited! I don’t think he’s met a pregnant person before.”

“Um...actually, about that…” Sumia’s eyes stared very steadily at Chrom’s shirt. “He kind of...already knows?”

“You told him before me?” Chrom couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice.

“I didn’t tell him! He did that stupid deduction thing he does, _Gods_ , Chrom, I could see it happening and I wanted to punch the little cogs out of his _brain_.”

That was a surprisingly funny image. “Aah...I know the one. He makes that squinting face like he’s passing a huge rock out his ass, and then he reads your mind.”

“Yeah!” Sumia pointed at Chrom in enthusiastic agreement.

“Gods, I hate that face.”

“Me too.” Sumia pouted.

“So…” Chrom broached awkwardly, “I don’t want to make this weird immediately, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but, is this...everything? You know, that caused the rift between us?”

Sumia nodded. “It was just this, and the reform. I’m sorry for leaving you alone like that when you needed me. I just didn’t know how best to support you, and I was so surprised by the pregnancy I just kind of...blanked out.”

“You don’t have to apologise for _anything_. I haven’t been here to support you as your husband during one of the scariest periods of your life, and I will do anything to make these next six months as comfortable as possible for you.” He kissed the back of her hand, and she smiled at him.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Would you like to go out to eat? I’m starving.”

“That sounds wonderful. Just give me a minute, I should conserve some energy for the walk.”

“There’s no need for that,” Chrom replied, scooping her up easily in a bridal carry. “As if my pregnant wife is going to _walk_ anywhere! She’s the Governor of Ylisse!” With that, he spun with her in his arms, and raced back to the horses. Her laugh echoed in the trees, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it was carefree.

-

Sumia was exhausted after their day out, and immediately retired to their quarters to sleep. It had hardly turned eight P.M., and Chrom was still full of energy - knowing full well how irate his wife would be if he attempted to start a conversation right before she went to sleep, he did the next best thing.

“Frederick, are you in?” Chrom rapped at the large, dark door. Frederick usually answered quickly, letting Chrom inside no matter the hour.

The slow response led him to believe with disappointment that Frederick was elsewhere until he heard a quiet “ _come in._ ”

He let himself inside, and quickly realised why Frederick had not made it to the door.

The bookshelf at the far end of the room was circled by two plush, brown armchairs. One was empty, and in the other, Frederick sat back, one hand holding a book open, the other cradling the head of a fast asleep Robin.  
Robin was splayed out across Frederick’s frame, his cape draped over him like a blanket and his head tucked neatly against Frederick’s shoulder. The fireplace was lit not too far from them, its soothing crackle making Robin’s sleep seem all the more restful.

Chrom couldn’t help but smile at the scene. He came to sit in the opposite armchair, balling his hands between his knees. “Sorry to interrupt,” he tried to keep his voice down, “you two look cosy.”

Frederick set his book down on a coffee table, his fingers playing in Robin’s hair absentmindedly. “He’s had a long day.”

It was admittedly disorientating to see Frederick cosy up with anyone at all. His frosty disposition and frigid body language scared most people off, and Chrom really thought he had cracked him just by being able to give the man a bear hug. He looked entirely at peace, though, with Robin restricting practically all of his movement.  
“You two are official now?”

“I had...actually wanted to wait until we were both present to tell you. I suppose there’s no hiding it now, though.” 

Chrom nodded. “I suppose it makes us even, in a way. He got one over on me, too.”

Frederick looked confused. “Whatever do you mean, Milord?”

“I actually don’t know if he even told you. Sumia is pregnant.”

“Oh, my congratulations! You’ll have to excuse me for not getting up to shake your hand.”

Chrom huffed a laugh at Frederick’s formality. “It’s fine, Frederick. Robin found out before me, you know - near three months, he’s known, and I found out this afternoon.”

Frederick eyed Robin’s sleeping form. “How in Naga’s name did he-”

“He _deduced_ it, apparently.” Chrom held his fingers up in air quotes.

“...I see. I must apologise for the ill-mannered nature of my companion, although I suspect you understand his disposition better than I do.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t wager that I know him better than you. That being said, it didn’t surprise me all that much when I found out. What does surprise me, though, is that he didn’t tell you.”

“I imagine that he would not feel comfortable sharing the information whilst the father of the child is not yet privy to it, regardless of the nature of our relationship.”

“I suppose so. He really is a trustworthy fellow, isn’t he?” Chrom replied in a serious tone, but definitely felt like he was teasing Frederick a little for his previous wariness.

Frederick appeared immune to that, though. “He is.” He stroked Robin’s hair again, looking down at him with such serious affection that Chrom had to look away. 

“Hey, how long have you been together?”

“Hm...about two months, now I’m thinking on it.”

"You guys look like you're really in love. It's giving me cavities."

Frederick went beet red. "In l-"

Chrom couldn't help rolling his eyes. "If you haven't told him yet, you might want to stop looking at him like he's a painting. I think he might notice."

Swallowing audibly, Frederick nodded. "Noted."

"Listen, old friend, would you come out with me tomorrow? I'd like to visit the carpenter in Finnswood to commission some baby furniture."

Frederick pursed his lips, and Chrom could already hear the argument about how they already had a royal carpenter onsite. His face softened, though, and he simply said, "Okay."

They smiled at each other, beginning a conversation about the best ways to decorate the newborn's bedroom.

At some point, Robin stirred, nearly punching Frederick in the face when he stretched. He seemed to be entirely unaware of this, winding his arms around Frederick and kissing him on the jaw. "Hi," he said softly, settling back into the crook of Frederick’s neck.

Frederick looked like he was about to explode from embarrassment. Chrom cleared his throat loudly. "Good morning, Robin."

Robin whipped his head round to acknowledge Chrom's presence in the room. "Whoops," he said, quickly unlacing his arms, but he didn't remove himself from Frederick’s lap; simply moving into a harmless straight seated position. "Guess the cat's out of the bag."

Chrom gestured with his chin. "You'll have to try harder than that if you want to be secretive."

Robin shrugged and leaned back into his human chair, splaying his arms as if he was staking a claim on Frederick. "I have no desire to be secretive. Who'd dare to be ashamed of _this_?" He asked, pointedly stroking Frederick's bicep.

Frederick raised an eyebrow. "I am still sitting here, just in case you're unaware."

"I know," Robin replied casually.

Chrom tried to adjust to this incredibly strange scenario. It was a complete about-face from the frostiness Robin and Frederick reserved for each other some months ago. "Sumia told me she's pregnant."

Robin looked up with wide eyes. "Oh, congratulations, Chrom! That's wonderful!"

He felt dry amusement set his smile. "You can drop the act, Robin. I know that you know."

Robin slumped again. "Oh, thank the gods."

"I was expecting a 'sorry for keeping it from you', but all right."

Robin’s expression turned serious. "I would only say that if I _was_ sorry, but I'm not. Sumia asked me to keep my mouth shut, and I agreed with her."

"Ugh," Chrom sighed, dragging his hands down his face, "I hate that you're right. You're always right. Why don't you mess up for once?"

"Please don't boost his ego." Frederick chimed in.

"I mess up! I tried to reorganise the horse shed the other week and Frederick hasn't shut up about how terrible it was."

"Wait, that was you?"

“Listen,” Chrom interrupted, “we’re thinking of making the official announcement quite soon, and it might be nice to coincide it with a strategic meet-and-greet with some important officials. If there’s anything you two think would make us look better, or if you have anything specific you want to announce, think on it now. It’s going to be a ball, about a month from now.”

Frederick and Robin shared a long look, as if words were passing between their lips. “We’ll think on it,” Robin replied, his head slowly turning to face Chrom. 

Chrom slapped his thighs with finality. “All right, then. Let me leave you two lovebirds in peace. It’s not long before you’re on full-time uncle duty.” 

With that, he excused himself from Frederick’s room, thinking on how occupied his two closest friends were with each other. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel spite, though - Robin and Frederick seemed to fill in the gaps between each other; they were both the most content Chrom had ever seen them. After years of strife, everything finally seemed to be smoothing out.

-

“Uncles…” Frederick repeated the word as if it was foreign to him, his mouth opening wide with the vowels and closing sharply with the consonants, testing the weight of it in his mouth. His body reacted first, skin clammy with a cold sweat, heartbeat tangible and knocking against his chest like a drum beat. His brain was still getting there. It ticked over the word again. “I need to prepare.”

He shifted, and Robin got the message, finally standing from his lap. “Prepare for what?”  
Opening his wardrobe, Frederick dropped to his knees and began to rummage around the bottom until he found the box he was looking for. It was smallish; dark brown and made of heavy wood, closed with a small metal latch. He presented it to Robin triumphantly.  
“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

Undoing the latch with excitement, Frederick set the box down at his desk. Inside was, just as he had remembered it, several pairs of knitting needles arranged in size-order and set in place with small, tight, elastic loops. “I wonder which colours are most in fashion for children at the moment. Yellow is child-friendly, but it doesn’t inspire a positive connotation in my mind - rather, my first thought is puke.”

“You _knit_?” Robin had a crazed look in his eyes, regarding Frederick as if he was going to burst out laughing at any moment.

“This,” Frederick gestured around his room, “is a zone for seriousness. If you cannot contain yourself, you are more than welcome to leave.”

“No, no, I’m serious. I. Am. Serious.” Robin attempted to compose himself. “I like you so much.”

Frederick rolled his eyes. “If you like me, then you’ll help me pick a colour.” He turned back towards his wardrobe to find the sack that contained his balls of yarn.

Robin practically ran to stand in front of him. “Teach me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Teach me how to knit.”

“No.” Frederick said finally, sidestepping around his boyfriend.

“Why not?”

“Because,” he pointed behind him vaguely in the direction of Robin, “you are the worst student I have ever had the displeasure of teaching. This will be axe-wielding all over again.”

“That was one time!”

“I refuse.” He pulled the sack over to his desk, procuring two balls of yarn from its depths. “Now. Powder blue or navy?”

“Powder blue. Please, Freddy? Just one lesson? I’ll leave you alone afterwards.”

“I already said no.”

Robin pouted, eyes downcast. “I’m gonna be an uncle. I just want to make a tiny jacket…”

“A jacket is far too complex.” Frederick sighed, long and deep. “One lesson. And you make what I tell you to make.”

Before he knew it, arms had been thrown around him, and Robin was pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, baby!”

Frederick could feel himself blush.

-

MAY 31ST

It was not often that Frederick and Robin spent their personal time in Robin’s room; not for any particular reason other than it had become a habit to make their way to Frederick’s.  
The prospect of foreign alcohol - Robin had won it after gambling with a travelling merchant - brought them to meet there, though. Although he condemned gambling, the idea of trying something he’d rarely get the chance to was too tempting to miss. 

Robin had asked him to meet him in his room after dinner, and handed him a key, telling him that he might still be out preparing something so he should make himself comfortable.

Even with the invitation, entering Robin’s room had his heartbeat running a mile a minute. They’d been together for some time now, but it was still short enough that he was getting to grips with learning about his boyfriend, and that things were incredibly exciting between them.

Robin’s room was, indeed, lacking Robin himself, but that did not make it empty.

Lanterns were dotted around the area; deliberate holes in the metal cast patterns around the room in a rosy glow. It was clean in there, for him; his books had been mostly shifted to one corner, and his bed was made - shoved right off to the wall of the western side of the room. It made way for a fort in the centre. Made of bedsheets, Frederick peered under the material to see that they were being held up by an assortment of chairs stacked atop one another - probably stolen from the announcement hall. The inside of the fort was surprisingly spacious. Some of his cushions had been placed strategically under a throw that covered the majority of the floor. Another blanket sat folded in one corner. 

Just as he was leaving the fort, the door opened. “Oh, you’re here already! Fantastic.” Robin was using his hip to keep the door open, balancing two plates in his hands. Frederick took them both so Robin could let himself inside proper.

“What are these?”

“Snacks! All vegetarian, I promise.”

Frederick eyed him warily. “Did you make these?”

Robin looked back with a sheepish expression. “One of the cooks owed me a favour.”

He accepted this without comment. “Where should I place these?”

“You can actually bring them inside the fort. I’ll bring the drinks.”

“Very well.” There was plenty of room on the floor to put the plates. Frederick wasn’t really sure what the most comfortable way to recline was, so he just sat cross-legged on a pillow.

Robin dangled two wine glasses from his fingers, some very expensive-looking decanters resting under his arm as if they were worth much less. “I remembered you don’t drink wine, so I swindled some brandy off the guy too. Is that okay?”

“It will be fine, thank you.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it, what _is_ your favourite drink?”

Frederick considered his next words very carefully. “I feel like telling you not to use this against me, but I fear the words will be lost on you. I actually like wine a great deal.”

“Huh? Then why did you lie?”

“I didn’t lie when I said I didn’t _drink_ wine.”

Robin sat down in one fluid movement, setting down the decanters in front of them. “Well _now_ you have me intrigued.”

“Wine is...different from other kinds of alcohol. It can have adverse effects.”

“Does it make you puke?”

“No. It just...makes me rude.”

“You’re already rude.”

“Only to you.”

“Well, if there’s going to be no difference,” Robin placed one of the decanters outside of the tent, “drink with me?”

Frederick uncapped the remaining decanter. “If you’re fine with me sleeping here,” he said, but he was already pouring their glasses.

-

The wine was sweet and warm in Frederick’s mouth. He’d asked Robin if the wine he’d brought was sherry, but he'd simply shrugged, and said that all he was told was that they’d smuggled it in. Perhaps a completely sober Frederick might have raised an objection to that, but the alcohol had settled a warm pool in his stomach, taking the edge off of everything. 

He lay on his side, resting his upper arm on a pillow. “You look really beautiful from this angle,” he said, straining his neck even further sideways.

Robin held his forearm over his mouth, poorly concealing his smile. “Are you drunk already?”

Frederick shook his head. “No; just admiring.”  
  
“I thought you said you were rude after wine,” Robin bent down to kiss him chastely.

“What can I say, sweetheart, you are always bringing out new sides to me.”

“Aww, did you just call me sweetheart?” Robin moved Frederick’s wine glass out of the way to lay on the floor next to him, cupping Frederick’s face in his hands. “I think I’ve fallen for drunk Freddy.”

“You like him better than sober Freddy?” Frederick asked against Robin’s lips.

“I like you both an unfair amount. Actually, Frederick…” Robin’s gaze flickered to the side for a minute before returning to share the moment. “I love you, y’know. I really do.”

Frederick tipped his head to brush their noses against each other. “I love you, too. In fact, while we’re being honest,” he threw his knee over Robin’s legs, moving to rest on top of him without leaning any of his weight, “I think I want this forever.”

Robin looked like he might cry. “Really?”

“I think about it all the time, especially when Chrom called us uncles. I couldn’t help imagining us, old and wrinkly, with his children all grown up and running circles around us.” Frederick wiggled his fingers, gesturing as if they were Chrom’s future children running through the air.

A hand found its way to the back of Frederick’s neck, playing with the short hairs there. “What if we had our own kids, too?”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Robin blew out a short laugh. “I love you, Frederick. I want all of it. I want you to be my family.”

Kissing Robin with sweet wine on his tongue made him even hotter to the touch; all taste was numbed in favour of intense sensation. It always tingled when Robin kissed him. Frederick pulled him closer, craving more of the feeling. Robin sucked on his tongue, and bit his lip, moving away to kiss his jaw.  
“This might be a horrible time to bring this up, and I mean it with no offence; just curiosity. Are you afraid of going all the way with me?”

Robin stilled. “I-I don’t know,” he said into Frederick’s chin, “I never really thought about it. Now that you said it, I guess I kind of am.”

“It’s okay to be nervous. I’m not demanding anything of you - it’s just that I noticed you’re always eager to do... other things.” It was true - it wasn’t as if they hadn’t been given numerous chances to have alone time together with their new titles, but they hadn’t gone farther than a blow job.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Robin began, tracing a spiral around the centre of Frederick’s chest, “I just don’t really know what to expect, and I didn’t know how to ask.”

“Well, we’d need to do a decent amount of prep. I’d probably want to try it just with fingers the first couple of times so we get used to it. It’s quite different to the sensation of getting off from frontal stimulation.”

“Different how?”

“Hmm…” Frederick tried to think of the words. “It’s a little weird at first. Sort of...wrong. Not painful if you do it correctly, but think of - say, the first time you put me in your mouth. It’s a similar feeling of intrusion. It only starts to feel good after a while, and even then, it’s not so obviously stimulating as touching your penis, but it can give mind-blowingly better orgasms.”

“You sound like a sex-ed teacher.”

“I’d find it quite distressing if your sex-ed teacher had let his student blow him.” Frederick quipped, used to Robin teasing him.

“You know, vulgar words sound so odd coming out of your mouth. It’s kind of hot, though.”

“Tell me again, what things _don’t_ you think are hot?”

“Well, if they don’t include you, most things.” Robin bit his lip. “Do you want to try the fingers?”

Frederick fell silent with surprise for a moment. “Oh, well I mean, only if you want to. I’m in no rush, so please don’t feel like you need to be ready - now or ever.”

“To be honest, Freddy, I know we’ve only had a glass of wine each, but I think it’s made me kind of horny.”

He kissed the lobe of Robin’s ear, licking its shell and watching Robin shiver. “Me too.”  
Frederick raised from his lying position. “I’d better go and get the lubricant.”

“Oh, there’s no need.”

“You won’t be saying that when there are dry fingers in your ass.”

Robin gave him a withering look. “I meant there’s no need because I already have some.”

“Oh.” Frederick stood still. “When did you… _Why_?”

Rolling his eyes, Robin got to his feet, smoothing his hands around Frederick’s collar. “Libra gave it to me. He said that if I was going to make terrible decisions, I might as well be safe about it.”

“I really can’t tell if he approves or not.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Robin grabbed Frederick’s hand, leading him out of the fort.

Frederick lost his footing trying to avoid a stray cushion, stubbing his toe on one of the chairs holding up the fort. Shooting pain ran up the length of his foot more painful than taking a lance tip to the shoulder on the battlefield. He let go of Robin’s hand like it had burned him. “Shit! Shitty fuck!”

Robin whipped his head around in shock. “Oh my gods, are you okay - wait, did you just say fuck?”

“Yes, I fucking did. Shit. Ow.”

Placing one hand over his mouth like it would shield his obvious laughter, he the other hand on Frederick’s shoulder blade. “Okay. Sit on the bed. We’re gonna get some food in you and sober you up before we even _think_ of having sex.”

-

Robin insisted on hand-feeding his wounded soldier. He still couldn’t believe what Frederick had said; the sound of it playing over in his mind when he was trying desperately not to giggle. Only now did he understand the full reason why Frederick avoided drinking wine. Placing one of the plates behind him, he sidled up beside Frederick on the bed. “Open wide.”

Obediently, Frederick opened his mouth. A smaller, mischievous part of Robin wanted to lick him, but he was more concerned about making sure his boyfriend was fully sober. Frederick took a bite. “Mm. What is this?”

“It’s a samosa. The recipe comes from overseas.”

“It’s really tasty.”

“Have some more, then.” He brought the half-eaten samosa back up to Frederick’s lips.  
There was something strangely addictive about babying his boyfriend; it held the same triumphancy as an aloof cat finally deciding it accepts you. There was also the private pride coming from possessiveness in knowing that Frederick wouldn’t let anybody else do this for him. Robin saw so many sides to him that most would never be privy to.

Instead of kissing Frederick’s cheek like he wanted to, he stuffed a potato kofta into his mouth. They ate together in silence. Finishing the plate with a six-foot five-inch bottomless pit of a man was no gargantuan task.

“I’m a little tired now,” Robin realised aloud, stretching his arms high above his head.

“I feel the same way. Should we perhaps just go to sleep?”

“That sounds good,” Robin replied, already undressing. He found his cotton sleep pants on the back of his desk chair, and pulled on a vest that probably didn’t have too many uses. He sniffed it just to be sure.  
Frederick had stripped down to his boxers, and was attempting to arrange himself on the bed in a way that left some room for Robin.

Robin blew out all of the lanterns except for the one at his bedside. “Don’t worry; we can cuddle.”  
Frederick opened his arms out wide in preparation for Robin to worm his way into his embrace. “You’re always so warm.” He said appreciatively.

“You’re going to hate it once the summer heat sets in.”

“Mm, no I’m not.” Robin made himself comfortable in the cleft of Frederick’s chest. “I like the heat. It’s comforting.”

He felt the weight of an arm around him, and the gentle press of a kiss on the top of his head. Robin hummed contentedly, and kissed Frederick at his breast. He smoothed his hand up and down Frederick’s side, enjoying the feeling of where his soft skin rose and fell. It soon moved from a gentle skim to a massage.  
“You’re going to wake me up if you do that.”

“Hm?” Robin replied sleepily. “What if I do _this_?” His hand reached down to grab at Frederick’s ass, giving it a nice, firm squeeze.

Frederick made a low sound. “Robin,” he said in a warning tone.

“Yes?” Robin replied innocently.  
He hardly registered it before he was being pushed onto his back, Frederick brushing his hair back and kissing him with a pace that was gentle and loving, but still promised more.  
“On second thought, maybe we _should_ stay awake.”

“Maybe we should,” Frederick agreed, nuzzling Robin’s neck as his fingers crept up his vest.

“What is it with you and my neck?” Robin complained with no real venom.

“Maybe you don’t hear how you sound when I kiss you there, but I am always paying quite close attention.” To punctuate, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the far side of Robin’s neck, and Robin felt him smile when his breath hitched.  
Frederick continued his assault on Robin’s neck. Robin laced his legs around Frederick’s back, pulling him in closer. The feeling of being kissed there really was phenomenal; almost too much to bear, but it felt so good at the same time that Robin never wanted it to stop. Frederick’s hand was torturously still against Robin’s hip.   
Robin smoothed his hands from as low as he could reach down Frederick’s chest all the way up to his pecs, which he squeezed, feeling the squishiness of the fat atop the muscle there, and then brushing his palms teasingly against his nipples.

“I _really_ like it when you touch me like that.” Frederick’s voice went so low it made Robin’s heart stutter. 

Robin flicked Frederick’s nipples with his thumbs. “You like it when I play with you?”

“Yes.” He kissed Robin’s jaw.

“Is it okay to call you mine?”

“I think I would like that.”

“Fuck yeah, you’re mine.” Robin tested out, trying not to be embarrassed about the awkward way the words left his mouth. “Turn around and lay on your back.”

“Yes, sir.”

Switching positions was a little awkward, but Robin made up for it with the fervour in which he mouthed and licked at Frederick’s chest. He dragged his fingers up and down Frederick’s thighs, which were wrapped around his hips, applying just enough pressure that he felt Frederick’s cock twitch as he lay flat on top of him.  
Robin used both his palms to drag along Frederick’s crotch, grazing his cock with his fingers. He was becoming addicted to Frederick’s gasps and moans, so much so that they had filtered into his daydreams. Robin probably pleasured himself far too often for someone who was regularly getting it elsewhere. 

"Do you just want to do what we normally do, or would you actually like to try the fingers?" Frederick asked, stilling under the weight of Robin's hands.

"Hmm." Robin's heart rate went up at the mention of it. "Sure, let's try it."

"Are you sure?" Frederick’s expression was doubtful.

Robin kissed it away. "If I'm uncomfortable, I'll tell you to stop," he promised.

"All right. Where do you keep the lubricant?"  
Privately, he grimaced at the thought of getting out of bed, but he got up anyway, finding the little tub in his desk drawer and popping it on the nightstand before he took his vest off.  
Frederick sat up and scooted to the far end of the bed. "It's probably going to be easiest if you're on all fours."

Now _that_ was a hot thought, and it battled with the butterflies in Robin's stomach as he took his pants off. He focused on the fact that this was Frederick with him, and he would always assure Robin's safety. It took the edge off the nerves, and Robin finally knelt on the bed facing the headboard, and moved to press his hands against the mattress. "Like this?"

"Just like that." Frederick said appreciatively. Robin felt hands move to massage his ass cheeks as Frederick pressed a kiss to his thigh. "You are so beautiful."

"Even with my ass in the air?"

" _Especially_ with your ass in the air."  
Frederick went for the lubricant, and Robin was shot with nerves again. His slick hand went for Robin's cock, though, and he leant over him as if he was only planning to give him a hand job. Robin let out a gasp as his dick was pumped, relaxing against the familiar feeling.  
"I'm going to put it in slowly, okay? Just one finger."  
Robin made his best attempt at a nod. A cold finger pressed against his asshole, and his whole body jumped at the sensation. "Are you okay?"

"Do that again," Robin begged, and Frederick's finger circled his entrance, making him tingle from the inside out. He couldn't believe how good it felt just to be stroked from the outside. Maybe this penetration thing was going to be much easier than he thought. "You can put it in."

Robin could tell that Frederick had only pushed the tip of his finger inside, but it was an entirely different sensation than the previous one. It definitely felt _wrong_ , as Frederick had said it would. Frederick seemed to notice him tense up. "Just focus on me stroking you here," he said, sliding his hand up and down Robin's cock with a firm grip.  
He nodded, trying to think solely about how good the hand job was as Frederick's finger slid further inside of him.   
Soon, he felt Frederick's knuckle graze his ass from outside. His whole finger was inside. He began to move it in and out in a curling motion, and Robin couldn't say it felt particularly bad or good. "Can I put another one in?"

"Yeah," Robin sighed, and felt the now familiar intrusion of a second finger. It was a little sore to be stretched that wide. Frederick kept it up, though, and soon the burning turned to something bearably numb.   
Frederick reached his fingers in a little deeper, and brushed against something a little strange. Bizarrely, Robin couldn’t say that it felt stimulating, but he definitely liked it. Was this supposed to be his prostate? It was surprisingly underwhelming, but still nice. "There," Robin confirmed aloud, losing himself in the feeling.

As Frederick massaged his prostate, the feeling got even stranger, and he began to feel like he was being filled with something warm and wet trickling down inside his belly. He panted, and rolled his hips back against Frederick's hand. He couldn't get enough of this feeling. Shamelessly, he fucked himself on Frederick's fingers, feeling drool come down the sides of his mouth from how long his mouth had been hanging open.

Robin was not particularly loud during sex - but Frederick's pace got more urgent, stimulating him from both ends and Robin couldn't tell what was better. He hiccuped a moan, and Frederick practically clambered on top of him to press his fingers in deeper. "Gods, you're so hot like this."

He tried to say Frederick's name, but it came out jumbled on his tongue as he rocked his body desperately trying to claim more of the incredible sensation. "Please," he managed to whisper, and Frederick quickened his pace on both sides in a way that had to be exhausting.   
Robin felt his impending release build up in him and couldn't help but claw for it even though he never wanted the feeling to end. He moaned even louder, letting his body completely drown in pleasure.  
Finally, he bucked forward, and his cum spurted upwards, spattering against his chest and his sheets. Robin let his head sag against the pillow. "Fuck, that was incredible."

He felt Frederick’s hands leave him. "Robin, you are astounding." He sat back on his heels, turning his head to face Frederick, who immediately captured him in a kiss. "I've never seen anything so arousing."

Robin did not have the good sense to feel embarrassed about what had just happened. He simply turned to face Frederick and took his thick cock in his hand. "Keep thinking about it," he said, and Frederick nodded, closing his eyes. "Imagine me fucking myself on your cock." He pumped Frederick’s already leaking erection. "Pressing into me with your big fucking dick and watching me come apart because of you." Frederick’s hips twitched like he was holding back. "How would it feel inside me, Frederick?"

"So tight," Frederick moaned, carding a hand through his hair to move it away from his sweaty forehead. "You'd feel so good, Robin."

"I want you to go in deep. All the way to the base. I want you to submerge yourself inside me."  
Frederick’s breath got more laboured as Robin kept talking. "Fuck me, Frederick."

Frederick snapped his hips up, pressing for friction against Robin's hand. The quickest he'd ever seen, Frederick came, his cum leaking thickly between Robin's fingertips.

"You enjoyed that, huh." 

"Be quiet," Frederick replied, finally opening his eyes. His gaze was hazy and molten, deep brown eyes unfocused; his hair all mussed up from desperately brushing through it.

"I wish I had the energy to go another round." Robin announced, sliding off the bed to find a towel. He nearly fell, not realising how much penetration had impacted his balance.

"Are you okay?"

"I have never been better in my life."  
He wiped his hands and his chest down, throwing a clean towel in Frederick's direction. "Could you wipe off the bed, too? I'm gonna have to send the sheets for washing in the morning, but right now I am far too tired to care."

"Agreed."

After everything was dry, but still somewhat sticky, they lay beside each other again. Robin felt sleep tug him slowly towards the abyss. "Love you, Freddy."

"I love you, too. Sweet dreams."

-

JULY 1ST

It was the day of the ball, and Frederick had been barred from the preparations early on; told that all of his ideas were either ‘too boring’ or ‘out of fashion’. The latter he accepted without argument, the former was a more delicate matter. He was worried about the lords having to listen to more modern music, and eat lots of food that was foreign to them. Frederick was sure the party planners were not being as considerate of their guests as they should be, but he was not about to argue with Lissa, Maribelle and Robin. 

An unfortunate side effect of being open about his relationship was people using Robin against him. Frederick had not agreed to send his knights to meet with merchants crossing the sea, so Lissa had gone through Robin, who’d cornered him the night before last and asked him if he didn’t care about having the best quality ingredients for Chrom and Sumia’s announcement.  
It was an unfortunate weak point. Though, it was rather amusing at the same time - everyone had somehow gotten the idea that Robin just batted his eyelashes at Frederick instead of them having a proper, adult conversation. It had nothing to do with not being able to say no to him. Nothing at all.

“Frederick, come here and stand in the jester’s spot. I need to know if everyone’s going to be able to see him okay.”

“Why are you sorting this out _now_?” Frederick grumbled, stomping over to the big white ‘X’ chalked into the flagstone in the dining hall.

Robin ignored him. “Okay, stay right there; I’m going to move to the other end of the room.” Frederick crossed his arms as he was scrutinised, tapping his foot against the stone floor. “I think it’ll be okay. We’ll just seat someone unimportant here.”  
At that, Frederick turned on his heel to leave. “Leaving already?” Robin called after him.

“Some of us have _real_ work to do.”

-

The young knights had long-since returned from collecting the ingredients for that night’s meal. While the chefs busied themselves in the kitchens, Frederick’s students were out practicing in the courtyard.  
This year’s new batch of knights were unruly at first, but were becoming incredibly disciplined; batting at each other in relatively straight lines without needing to be watched too closely. Frederick looked over them proudly from his perch on the stone steps.  
He spotted a familiar face in the crowd.

“Not in need of my company today?”

Frederick’s young Feroxi student (Ricardo, he had learned), jabbed a focused strike against his opponent; a smaller, lean, blonde boy named Peter who was particularly loud. Peter sidestepped Ricardo’s wooden sword to ruffle his hair. “Sorry, Ser Frederick; he’s my problem now.”

Ricardo elbowed Peter. “Get off me, you oaf.”

“Your form is off, Ricardo.”

His head whipped around, staring at Frederick sorely. “My sword strike? I practiced that all night!”

“No, your elbow.” He nodded at Ricardo’s arm. “You’re going to need to keep your arm closer if you want to put any force into it.”

Peter looked insulted. “Please don’t give him any ideas. I have enough bruises.”

“Such is the life of the knight. Take a rest, Peter - I’d like to see Ricardo for a short while.”

They took a short walk around the edge of the courtyard; following the path of the wildflowers until they were far enough to speak privately. “I shan’t keep you for long. I wanted to ask about the ball this evening. Will you be in attendance?”

Ricardo scratched his head. “Ah, probably not. I have some chores to get through, so…”

“Generals Basilio and Flavia will be there, with a few soldiers and officials. Even if you don’t know anybody, it might be nice to find someone to keep in contact with.”

“I don’t know...I haven’t been back to Ferox since I was a boy. I doubt we’d have much in common.”

Frederick shrugged. “The option is available if you want it. I have plans to meet with them as well; to see if they have any information regarding my mother.”

“Your mother knew Basilio and Flavia?”

“My mother was a royal physician in Ferox before she emigrated here.”

Ricardo did a double-take. “Wait-you’re Feroxi?” He looked Frederick up and down, as if he was trying to spot something. “But, the peace treaty wasn’t signed between Ylisse and Ferox until I was born.”

Nodding, Frederick wondered how much information would be appropriate to reveal. “I was born before the peace treaty. My mother came here as an ambassador, and ended up staying.”

Ricardo’s eyes softened, and he offered a smile. “That’s pretty cool. Did you have to keep it a secret?”

_“Mother taught me how to read a Feroxi poem today. Did you know their national guardian is a clay giant? He guided them to the land we call Ferox today!”_

_His ma pinched his ear tightly, ushering him quickly along the wide street. “You haven’t told anyone about your mother, have you?” The words were a harsh whisper._

_Frederick felt guilt pool in his gut, but he wasn’t sure why. “Just a few of my friends.”_

_“You don’t mention anything about being Feroxi to anybody anymore. Do you understand me? If they come for us, we will have to leave.” He’d never seen his ma look so enraged. It was all he could do to nod numbly, fear settling into his gut. He looked around to see if anybody had heard, and was relieved to find the street empty._

“I did what I had to do.” Frederick responded.

Realising he was not going to get anything else out of Frederick, he snapped a salute. “Thank you for telling me. It’s nice to know I’m not alone. I should get back to practice now, though.”

Frederick watched him leave. Ricardo was tough - he’d be fine. 

-

In a matter of hours, Ylisstol Castle had been transformed for hosting. Banners had finally been changed from Emmeryn’s gold to Chrom’s characteristic blue; smaller pennants lining the internal walls leading to two large flags just outside the entrance. 

The smell of hearty food hung in the air. This feast would surely be one to remember - not that Frederick cared much for the higher class Ylissean diet, but certainly, it would be quite the spectacle.

Frederick made his way to the ballroom to meet with Lissa, who had his suit in her possession. She’d asked him what he’d planned on wearing and he’d shrugged, stating that he had a perfectly decent black suit left off from Chrom’s wedding. Lissa looked like she was about to hit him, and insisted that she get him something tailor-made. He had no idea of the colour or design, and had been putting off the worry that came with that. If worst came to worst, then he still had that black suit in his wardrobe.

The ballroom had also been dressed to the nines; golden chandeliers all freshly dusted and lit for the first time since the royal wedding; a plush, red carpet had been laid that morning for the festivities. Pennants squared the circumference of the room, and the cuboid shape gave way open-plan into a circular tower whose walls were glass and led out onto the balcony.  
Next to the steps that led to the tower, the band had already set up, and were talking amongst themselves in a lively manner.

“Oh, you’re here!” Lissa bounded up to him from a far wall which housed a long table stretching the full length of the room. There was nothing on the white tablecloth yet, but Frederick assumed it was for evening refreshments.  
Lissa held out her hand. “We need to test out the new carpet. May I have this dance?”

“Milady, there’s not much time before the guests begin to arrive.” He took her hand anyway, leading her out into the open space.

“Then we’ll make it quick, shall we?” She waved at the band to get their attention. “Could you play something for us? Something old, like Frederick’s soul.”

They began to play a song that was sufferable. Frederick recalled his dancing legs, and led Lissa in circular motions around the ballroom. “The decor is wonderful, Milady. You did an excellent job.”

“Thank you, Frederick! It wasn’t all me, though. Maribelle was insistent I studied up on colour theory before we even _began_ to start decorating the place.”

“What’s colour theory?”

Lissa’s face screwed up with discontent. “Stupid rules some old monk probably decided about which colours you can and can’t put together.”

Frederick decided that was probably all he was going to get out of her on the topic. “At any rate, it sounds like you worked very hard. Well done.”

She grinned at him. “I had to do _something_. Everybody’s been working so hard, and I’ve just been sitting around, you know.” He could tell she was referring to the reform - Lissa and Chrom had gotten into arguments about her responsibilities. She was barely seventeen; still in education, and far too young to be worrying about such matters. However, she had to have been impacted by Emmeryn’s death. The passing of both of her parents had happened quite early in her life, too, and Chrom and Emmeryn had done their best to fill in the gaps. Lissa was on the edge of the realisation that they were not, and could not be, her parents, and was trying to make up for that fact.

“The best thing you can do right now is get your education, so that you can be an indispensable aide to your brother in the future.”

Pouting, Lissa looked out towards one of the windows. “I felt like I was doing more for him on the battlefield.”

“I think Milord feels the same way. About the country, that is. Neither of you ever expected to have to take up such responsibilities.”

“But it doesn’t change the reality of the situation, does it?” When Lissa met Frederick’s gaze, her eyes were cold. There was something far older about her expression than her age should have allowed. It hurt him.

“No, it doesn’t. But that does not mean you should be neglecting your studies to play Kings and Queens.”

Finally, Lissa smiled again. “Perhaps not.”

The song ended, ending their conversation painfully short. Lissa let go of Frederick’s hand. “Let’s go and pick up your suit, shall we?”

“You didn’t do anything...too _wild_ , did you?”

“I told you, Maribelle made me study colour theory!”

“What a masterful way of avoiding the question.”

Lissa barked out a laugh, leading Frederick out of the ballroom.

-

Lissa’s quarters were massive, larger than Chrom and Sumia’s; to fit all of her hobbies and fancy trinkets. Three bay windows lined the back wall, bringing in a huge amount of natural light. A queen-size bed fit with a flowy golden canopy sat on the eastern wall between two doors. Lissa shoved Frederick unceremoniously through one of the doors, and he ended up in a powder blue bathroom with three black clothing bags in his hands.

Inside the first bag was a baby blue shirt, crisp and ironed to perfection. Silver cufflinks hung loosely from buttonholes at the wrist, bearing the mark of the Exalt. The shirt fit perfectly; unlike his wedding suit, which had not been tailored, and was entirely too tight at the shoulders and the bust.

The second bag housed Frederick’s trousers. They were, surprisingly, a deep burgundy - what was yet more surprising was that Frederick did not hate them. Perhaps it was something about the expert tailoring, he thought, as he buttoned up the fly.  
The suit jacket was the same colour; in the side pocket, there was a red bow tie, and the breast pocket held a blue silk handkerchief.   
Frederick felt rather dignified as he sized himself up in a floor-length mirror. He folded the rest of his clothes into the bags he’d been given, and stepped outside.

Standing at the opposite end of the room, leaning against Lissa’s dresser, was Robin. His suit matched Frederick’s; the burgundy suiting his complexion and bright hair far better, but his shirt was a shock of lilac. Instead of a bow tie, he wore a long, thin necktie. “Hi,” he said.

Frederick was across the room in seconds. “You look wonderful.” Robin lifted his hand up, and Frederick laced their fingers together with his free hand. “Where’s Lissa?”

“She’s gone to Maribelle’s room to try on her dress.” Frederick nodded. “You have something on your face.”

His hand immediately flew to his cheek. “Where?”

Robin pecked him on the lips. “Here. You are _so_ handsome.”

Blushing, Frederick leant down to Robin's ear. "You clean up rather well, also." 

"I can't believe we have matching suits. Everybody is going to know we're together."

"I was under the impression that everybody already knew," Frederick referred to the speed at which gossip travelled at Ylisstol Castle. Once Lissa found out a secret, it was all over.

"But this is different. It feels so _official_."

"Oh yes, it will all be over for our secret rendezvous and clandestine kisses in the corridors." Frederick joked.

"Damn, we should have done all that while we had the chance."

"Well - I suppose we could pretend to break up and be lovers in secret; if that's what you want."

"Ugh," Robin complained, giving Frederick a friendly shove. "Why am I even dating you?"

"See, that's the spirit."

-

Frederick and Robin walked to the dining hall hand-in-hand. In the past hour, crowds of guests had arrived from all four corners of Ylisse and beyond; crowding at the entrance to be seated. 

Already knowing where their seats were, Robin bypassed security, leading Frederick to seat himself one chair to the right from the head of the table. Sumia was sat two seats to the left of Frederick; leaving an obvious gap for Chrom. Frederick assumed she had been the first to be seated - not that she was showing all that much in her large gown, but they'd taken extra precautions to make sure her secret would not be guessed before the official reveal. Not even all of the Shepherds knew. 

Both familiar and unfamiliar faces poured into the hall. It was a large room, but got steadily noisier until it was unbearably loud. Robin must have noticed Frederick’s discomfort from his side, because he placed his hands over Frederick’s ears. He tried to focus on the feeling of Robin’s fingertips and the sound of the air passing in the shell of his hands.

Soon enough, though, Chrom entered through the huge double doors of the hall, and all the guests fell silent.  
Much like Frederick and Robin, Chrom and Sumia’s outfits were colour coordinated. Chrom wore navy chinos and a shirt of the same colour; atop which he’d donned a light pink waistcoat. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and instead of a suit jacket, he wore a dark blue asymmetrical cape. The outfit was a monstrosity, but that was hardly surprising. 

“He certainly is...a pioneer of fashion,” Frederick muttered. Robin let out a guffaw before he could stop himself, and the entire room turned to look at them. Frederick raised an eyebrow at his partner, who simply faced straight ahead, digging his fingers into Frederick’s knee under the table. Frederick looked away.

After what felt like forever, Chrom reached his seat. “Greetings, friends. I thank you all dearly for attending our little get-together-” pause for laughter, “-and I’m sure you’re all trembling in anticipation for what’s to come. But first - let’s eat.”

As Frederick expected, much of the food was hard to stomach. He much preferred being able to make his own meals. Using his cutlery, he skillfully made a show of separating green beans into tiny squares before he ate them so he could make the time go faster. 

“Trade ya some lettuce for that deer meat,” Robin said slyly, gesturing to the untouched lump of steak on his plate.

“Please remember we are being watched. How are we going to maintain the image of professional adults if we are sneaking food onto each other’s plates? Besides, you need to eat more vegetables.”

“I will eat...carrots.” Robin was silent for a beat. “Nobody is watching us, you know. That is why there’s a jester in the room.” The fool pranced about with a set of knives, entertaining his audience with a shallow humour that was more painful than watching paint dry in Frederick’s mind. “I want you to eat something. At least have some potatoes.”

“You like potatoes.”

“I can live without them. You’re not going to fill up on green beans.” Frederick sighed at the wail of his stomach, and dumped his steak onto Robin’s plate.   
Robin traded him some lettuce and potatoes. “What is it about meat that you hate so much?”

Frederick grimaced. “It’s the texture. All the tough, stringy and fatty meats feel like biting into resin. I can’t quite convince my body that it’s food I’m swallowing. I can eat lighter meats such as pork and chicken, though, and will stomach beef if I have to.”

Chewing, Robin appeared to consider this. “Texture, huh...I guess I get it. Although I don’t really have issues with meat.”

Setting his head in his hand, Frederick watched Robin cut up his steak and swallow it, staring at where his neck bobbed. “Yes, instead you have a vendetta against vegetables.”

“They taste like the soil. Do I look like I eat dirt?”

“Well, there _was_ that time you fell off your horse in Windsgale-”

“We don’t talk about that.” Robin interrupted. “Eat your food before it gets cold.”

After what seemed like a lifetime, the jester was escorted out of the dining hall, and Chrom clinked his empty glass with a teaspoon. It was loud from where they were sitting, but hardly any of the room noticed. Chrom waved his hands towards the eastern and western ends of the hall.

An eruption of musical horns interrupted the conversation where Chrom had failed. At his side, Sumia stood, her knuckles white where she gripped the stem of her wine glass. She began speaking with her eyes downcast. "You are all probably wondering why we have called you here this evening." When her gaze rose, it paused at her husband, who smiled at her encouragingly, and she took a deep breath, facing their audience. "We are delighted to announce that we are with child."

Initial whoops and calls of congratulation parted for a wave of applause.  
Chrom threaded his arm around Sumia's waist, kissing her hair and then smiling as he waited for the noise to die down.  
"We kept it a secret because we'd appreciate your congratulations tonight rather than your gifts. We hope that...with the coming of future generations, the peace we are establishing now will only flourish." Speeches were one thing Chrom did well - providing he believed in what he said; he could command the attention of the harshest personalities with his sincerity.   
Frederick felt the weight of his words. After Gangrel's death, Plegia had been scrambling to right its government with the crowning of the new king, Validar. He had sent his apologies that he could not be present at the ball this evening; sending a few of his advisers in his stead, and Chrom had not taken it as an insult. The people of Plegia needed rulership now more than ever.

Frederick spotted Validar's advisers not too far from him. It was impossible not to remember Aversa; her lean, graceful frame and striking facial tattoos made her stand out even if her previous allegiance to Gangrel had not cast her suspicion like stone into Frederick's mind.  
As if noticing she was being watched, she flicked her hair and stared into Frederick’s eyes. Aversa pierced him; considering Frederick with something ancient - perhaps esoteric - and, try as he might, he found he could not understand what she was communicating; nor could he break the stare.

At once, she blinked and looked away, and with the turn of her head, the world started moving again.  
It appeared the rest of the room had not noticed their exchange. Hardly surprising; the fact that Frederick had just been shaken to his core was only relevant to him.

When everyone got up to leave for the ballroom, Frederick put his arm around Robin, pressing his fingers into his waist and feeling the scratchy wool dip under his pressure brought him off the edge of surreality.  
Under Frederick’s suit jacket, Robin pressed a hand to the small of his back. He chatted animatedly with Lissa; Sumia walked with them, but was only half-listening.  
  
Frederick wondered who Sumia really spoke to - the only time he ever saw her truly comfortable was in the private moments she shared with her husband.  
It’s not like Frederick and Sumia had anything in common, and Frederick was bad at starting conversations. In truth, she probably had little interest in befriending him. Whether she was lonely or not shouldn’t really concern him. 

-

When they reached the ballroom, music was already playing. Nighttime had truly settled in; the inky sky calling romantically from golden window frames so the guests could gaze upon it and sigh from the warmth of the indoors. 

Glasses were snatched up from the refreshments table in seconds. Robin was gone from Frederick’s side for a panicked moment before he returned with two flutes of cloudy liquid. “I know we have an agreement on wine, but I’m not drinking any when it’s not just us.”

Robin gave him a wry smile. “It’s just elderflower juice.”  
Frederick knocked some back, and indeed, it was inoffensive. “Drink it quickly. I want to dance with you.”

“The night is still young, Robin, and so are we. I will dance with you every night if you want me to.”

“Well, you two look comfortable.”  
Frederick hadn’t seen Cordelia and Sully for weeks, now; rumour had it they’d taken a romantic holiday to the south, which was corroborated by the sunny glow in their cheeks.  
Cordelia was dressed in a dark red cocktail dress that curved down her legs like a bellflower. Sully wore a simple, but extremely smart, black suit with the top few buttons undone. 

Robin gave Cordelia and Sully an embrace each. “Ugh, this place has been so boring since you left! How was your time away?”

“Oh, beautiful, Robin. You wouldn’t even believe the beaches down south! Sully took us on this dinky little boat and we sailed until the evening set in. Oh, and you should have seen the inn we stayed at! It was like a painting.” Cordelia fussed over all the details of their holiday, and Robin listened intently, oohing and aahing at her stories.

Sully offered Frederick a handshake. “Congratulations, Mister Knight. Wanna take a walk while they finish up?” Gesturing with her head, she had already let go of his hand and turned before Frederick could formulate a reply.

Frederick caught up to her. “You know, I think I finally understand what you said to me at the dining hall all that time ago.”

“Well, you had to grow some balls at some point.” Sully smiled toothily. “We all knew you had the hots for Robin; I was just waiting for my bets to come through. Thanks for that, by the way - you paid for part of our holiday.”

“I’d thank you not to place bets on my romantic status, but somehow I feel like you’ll do it anyway.”

Sully patted his arm sympathetically. “You got that right, big guy. Who’d miss a chance to bet on Frederick the Wary going soft?”

She led them through the throng of the party, opening a door to the balcony with her shoulder. Frederick felt the cold air smack him in the face. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean,” Sully continued as if she hadn’t heard his words, “now people actually feel like they can have a conversation with you. Though,” she looked him up and down, “I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing in your books. Regardless, it’ll do you good to mingle with more of the commonfolk.”

Frederick laughed dryly at that, resting his arms out on the balcony as he held his glass between his fingers. “I suppose it would be nice to speak with my own people some of the time,” he acknowledged, “it’s difficult, every so often, always having to punch up to people who were born better than you.”

Sully leaned backwards on the balcony, her elbows stretched out as she squinted at him. “Whereabouts are you from, anyway?” Frederick knew this question. She was sizing up how poor he was.

He shook his head. “You probably haven’t heard of it; it’s called Aerdale, and it’s west-”

“No way!” Sully interrupted excitedly. “I’m from Ealewood, y’know!”  
Ealewood was another small town about a forty-minute horse ride from Aerdale. Frederick raised his glass at her in a solemn toast. I can’t believe it; you really were born into shit.” She wasn’t insulting him; rather, she looked impressed. “And yet, we both made it here, eh?”

They shared a wry smile. “We’ve done well for ourselves.”

“Yeah, when we’re not busting our asses for these duck feather-mattressed rich folk.” Sully saw Frederick’s expression sour and amended her statement. “I mean, don’t get me wrong; Chrom’s like a brother to me. I just feel like we’re protecting people who wouldn’t last a week where we’re from - people who wouldn’t give a shit if we lived or died so long as they don’t get their acres of land and afternoon tea taken away.”

Frederick had little idea how to respond to that. It wasn’t something he’d really thought on since he’d joined the knights’ academy; just that the status quo was as it was, and he worked to do the best he could regardless of the circumstances of his birth. “It’s not _so_ bad; where we’re from, is it?”

Sully thrust a finger at him. “I am proud of where I’m from, Sir Frederick. I am proud that I had to steal for my little sisters to survive, and I am proud that my wage keeps them afloat now and that I don’t have to do that anymore. That doesn’t mean I don’t see people looking down on me.”

Memories of his early knight training flooded back to him. It wasn’t that Frederick particularly hid his past; it just wasn’t something people wanted to hear - the topic didn’t need to be avoided, because it wasn’t broached. When people thought of Frederick as different, they changed, too, and somewhere along the way he’d stopped volunteering information.  
“You are one of our best fighters. Honour and bravery is not something that can be taught in a code, Sully; it has to be experienced. You are here because you have something many people never will. They can never look down on you,” Frederick raised his index and middle fingers on one hand to point at Sully’s eyes, “so know that when they stare, they are looking _up_.”

Something fierce settled in Sully’s gaze when he lowered his hand. “You’re a funny guy, Frederick.”

“You might be the only one who thinks so.”

Sully slapped him on the back. “Come drinking with us sometime. You’d fit in better than you might think.”

Frederick assumed she was referring to the rest of the Shepherds. He considered it, finishing the last dregs of his elderflower juice. “We’ll have to see about that; won’t we?”

“There you are!” They both turned to face Robin, who had his hands on his hips, an expectant expression matching the tapping of his foot. “I leave you for two minutes and you’re halfway across the castle,” he exaggerated, “it’s like you’re avoiding going to dance with me.”

Sully plucked the glass from Frederick’s hand. “I’ve kept you long enough. Go dance; lover boy.”

“I’ll see you around, Sully.”

She had already turned full-body to face the night sky, and waved his own glass at him in a send-off.

“I didn’t know you two were friendly,” Robin broached, leading Frederick back into the ballroom with a hand.

“It’s a recent development.”

“How recent?”

“Oh; I don’t know. About fifteen minutes ago?” Frederick questioned.

Robin laughed at that, steering Frederick to a more sparse area of the ballroom, where he lifted Frederick’s hand to rest on his hip. “You two are both silent types. What do you even talk about?”

“This and that,” Frederick replied noncommittaly; leading Robin in a small circle so that they didn’t bump into anybody else.

“What; you don’t want to tell me? That’s fine, I suppose.” It wasn’t as if Frederick was that protective over Sully and his new-found common ground, but he knew talking about childhoods was a weak point for Robin.

“I don’t think it would interest you.”

Robin pressed closer to him. “Everything about you interests me.”

“Hmm…” Frederick thought to himself. “I wash my face every night at eight-thirty P.M. That takes exactly four minutes, and then I brush my teeth, which takes fifteen. The toothpaste I use is imported from Ferox. I change into my pyjamas and always read a chapter of a book before I go to sleep, but sometimes I read more than that.”

“Stop talking.”

“I thought you were interested,” Frederick feigned ignorance.

“I hate you.”

“What happened to ‘I love you, Frederick; I want to raise your children’?”

“I love you, Frederick; I want to raise your children. I also can’t stand you, and I wish you would shut up.”  
Frederick felt affection prickle at the corners of his eyes. Robin stopped dead. “Oh, Freddy, was that too cruel? Please don’t cry; I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

Resting his head on Robin’s shoulder, he breathed in deeply. “It wasn’t too cruel. I just remembered how strongly I feel for you.”

He felt a hand cradle the back of his head. “What am I going to do with you? My boyfriend’s love language is insults…” Robin marvelled. “I suppose that makes things easier in the long-run.”

Frederick finally moved away to look at Robin. He looked stunning in his suit; glowing and somehow in love with the man standing in front of him. Frederick couldn’t wait to spend every day of the rest of his life with him. For once, everything was settling down - he was happy; forming closer bonds and settling down now peace had come to Ylisse. The puzzle pieces of his life were forming together, and he couldn’t be more content.

They danced for what felt like forever, because they had forever. Frederick’s legs felt like jelly but he didn’t care - there’d be time for recovery. For now, he’d just enjoy the moment. 

-

Robin’s heart felt like it was on a cloud. He floated; dizzy with the sensation of being in love. The night was still in full-swing, but Robin was thinking about little more than taking Frederick back to his bedroom - or maybe one of the back rooms; something a little risque, just to remember the night by.

Right now, though, his throat was dry.

Patting Frederick, he broke away from their embrace. “I’m going to get us some drinks. You just want some juice again?”

“That will do just fine,” Frederick responded, giving Robin a final kiss on the cheek before he left.

The refreshments table was completely filled with used glasses. That meant the only way of catching a drink was to find a server - a difficult task amidst the sea of guests who were all now pleasantly drunk. Robin surfed between the crowd of dancers, finally spotting a lady in a black tux with a tray on her arm. He dove for her, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“We meet again, Assistant Governor of Ylisse. And what a title that is for someone like _you_ to have.”

Robin felt his lips flatten into a straight line. “Aversa. I had hoped that with the crowning of your new king the bad blood would have passed between us.”

She flipped her hair. “I don’t mean anything bad by it; in fact, it’s more of a compliment, really. Are you the only Plegian working in Ylisstol Castle? It seems that they treat you very well.”

Crossing his arms, Robin willed himself to keep his cool. “I earned my place just like everybody else.”

“I’m sure you have. After all, you grew up in royalty; didn’t you?”

Robin went cold. He wouldn’t rise to her bait. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Aversa laughed freely. “So it’s true; you really don’t know anything. Aren’t you curious to know?”

“Not from you,” Robin replied, turning on his heel.

“Your father has told me all about you,” Aversa called.

Robin spun back, sticking his index finger right under her collarbone. “For the sake of our nations, I am going to make this short and polite. I have nothing to say to you. I will never have _anything_ to say to you. Your lies mean nothing to me. Goodnight, Aversa.”

“Whether you believe what I’m saying or not doesn’t matter. By morning, your feelings will have changed whether you want them to or not.”

Anxiety welled up in Robin’s gut, but he punched it down. “This is the last time I say it. Goodnight.” With that, he went back to search for the drinks waiter. 

Aversa was just trying to get to him, he tried to convince himself. She’d probably try to get another rise out of him tonight, but after he got his drinks, he’d stick by Frederick like glue. He wouldn’t let her talk to him like that. Gods, he was so frustrated. A father? As far as he was concerned, he didn’t have one - he didn’t need one. Not when everything was going right in his life. Aversa had picked the wrong thing to lie to him about. 

Robin was determined not to let her ruin his night. It was supposed to be about celebration. Chrom was happy. Everyone was happy. Repeating this to himself, he settled a little, and thought he might do better with something alcoholic in his system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooooooooooooo im sorry this update was so long it was gonna be twice as long but you can all thank simon for putting a hand on my shoulder and speeding up the pace of this update
> 
> speaking of simon they also helped me name the chapter. they did suggest the name 'frederick and his balls' early on in development but that didn't quite fit with my aesthetic here so
> 
> can anyone guess which culture (mine) i've moulded frederick's feroxi culture off of? the clue is in the clay giant, but we'll be going a bit deeper oh so soon.
> 
> it's very fun going into depth with some of the side characters, especially after having done such a focus on frederick and robin's relationship. i really like sully a lot, and i'm going to do my best to sneak in some more of that kind of content. the characters mean a lot more to me now; i sort of feel like a kid with all of my stuffed toys trying to fit them all under the bedcovers at night because i don't want anybody to feel left out lol
> 
> thank you all so much for reading!!


	5. / self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: NSFW, MILD BODY HORROR, EMETO

/[SELF](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KqJC0bXa-qE)

  
  


JULY 1ST

The evening was still in full swing, and although the hall was large and the guest populace great, Frederick managed to spot many familiar faces. Lissa was striking in a yellow ball gown that made her natural poise far more grown-up than the strange dance that she was teaching Maribelle suggested. Stahl was chatting it up with one of the waiters, which probably had less to do with a good conversation and more to do with the steadily decreasing pile of sausage rolls on the waiter’s tray. Chrom and Sumia could be seen distantly on the balcony; wrapped up snugly in each other’s embrace.

Finally, Frederick spotted Flavia clinking glasses with a petite, dark-haired Feroxi woman. Seeing his chance, he made his way over. “Hail, Flavia. It is good to see you here.”

“I wouldn’t miss a Ylissean bash for anything, Sir Frederick. If I may, seeing you in a suit does a lot less for me than your armour - you almost look like you shrunk, if that were possible.” She clapped him on the shoulder as if to emphasise her point.

Frederick knew better than to take her observation as an insult. “Well, you _would_ think that. Besides, I wear a suit even under my armour.”

“Ha! I thought that was just a rumour.”

“A knight must be prepared for all eventualities.”

“Well, either way; you’re a beast on the battlefield. That makes you worth any weird habit in my books.”

“That’s quite a relief, because I have something to ask of you.”

Flavia raised her eyebrow. “Mina, could you find Basilio?” She nudged her companion, who muttered something about a tactful sendoff before she left them. “Forgive me for my assumption, but is this a personal matter?”

“Ah, well, I suppose. Not so personal that we have to leave - I’m waiting for my companion to return to me shortly.”

She nodded, businesslike, and Frederick was grateful for her seriousness. “Not a problem. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to ask about a woman. Her name was Selene, and she worked as a royal physician in Ferox over twenty years ago. I don’t necessarily expect you to know, because of how long ago it was-”

“Aye, I knew Selene,” Flavia confirmed solemnly, and Frederick’s heart stopped. “Are you looking into her research? I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”

“I’m not looking into her research; I’m looking into _her_. You see, she was - _is_ , my mother.”

Flavia gaped. “You’re her boy? My…” Smiling, she shook her head in disbelief. “I never thought she’d get her head out of a book long enough to have kids. No wonder she ended up staying in Ylisse.”

“You knew her personally,” he accused.

“I wouldn’t say that we were particularly close - we just grew up in the same circles. Went to school together. She worked in my employ for a while, in our youth, and she had a brilliant mind. She never quite clicked with the atmosphere, though.” Flavia’s words were far away, but her gaze was deceptively present; she stared at Frederick like she was looking for Selene’s features in him. He wondered if she’d found anything.

“Might you, perchance, have any of her writings left?”

“Oh, almost definitely. Her office has been locked up and abandoned since she left for Ylisse; most people were too superstitious to touch what belonged to her.”

From what Frederick remembered, Selene was interested in the ‘science of the occult’. She’d told him that Feroxi people used to be great mystics, but with the arrival of newer-age philosophers and interaction with foreign nations, interest and bravery to dabble in it waned. Ylisseans were not so mystical as they were religious, so Frederick could never quite understand the attraction. Be that as it may, he still wanted to see if there was something in her records he could take as a keepsake. Or...if there were any clues that would fill the hole in his heart.

“Perhaps I ought to visit; if that would be all right with you.”

Flavia looked at him sceptically. “So long as this is purely about your ancestry, and not to take up where she left off, I’d be happy to search for her office key. In fact; you could make the journey back with us tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“Tomorrow,” Frederick felt his eyes widen, his pulse quickening with lack of preparation. 

“Sooner rather than later, all right? Once your Governess pops out that baby, you’ll be busy as anything, and by the time you know it, you’ll have wrinkles like mine.” She pointed to her face, and while the aim was humour, her expression was blank.

“I’d have to speak to Milord about it,” he replied, his mind racing a mile a minute on the road into nowhere.

“Let me handle Chrom. You’d better let your sweetheart know. If you want to come, show up at dawn. If not; we’ll assume you’re not ready yet. Either way, a man like you is always welcome in Ferox - especially since its blood runs in you.”

Frederick bowed. “Thank you for your kindness, Flavia.”

Flavia swatted at the air. “I’m not being kind. You’ll be working as hard as any other soldier if you come and stay with us; you know.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They said their goodbyes, and Frederick went to find Robin. He’d been a while, so he’d probably lost sight of all the waiters, Frederick guessed. He found a vantage point at the steps to the tower, spying him after more time than he hoped it would take.

“Did you get lost?”  
Robin was standing at one of the entrance columns to the hall, and at first glance, he’d appeared to be scanning the hall for the sign of drinks, but his stare was glassy. That look didn’t entirely fade, even upon reaching Frederick. “Are you all right, Robin?”

“Yeah, I just couldn’t find a waiter, and now I have a bit of a headache.”

Frederick placed his palm flat against Robin’s forehead. “Do you want to go outside for a moment?”  
Nodding, Robin led him out into the corridor, and they walked down it until the music faded to an echo in the distance. When they were far enough, Robin stopped, swivelled, and purposefully fell face-first into Frederick’s chest. Frederick caught him around his upper arms. “Are you sure it’s just a headache?” Robin hummed in confirmation. “We should go to the kitchen and get you some water.”

“I want some wine.”

“I’m not letting you drink while you have a headache; it’ll just make it worse.” Robin huffed, and Frederick laughed, leaning down to touch the tip of Robin’s ear with his lip. “Besides, if you’re drunk, how am I going to ravish you later?”

There was silence for a moment as Robin considered this. “Okay, let’s get water.”

-

Frederick brushed a curl behind Robin’s ear as he nursed his cup.  
The kitchen was dead silent; moonlight streaming through uninterrupted due to the lack of curtains. The candelabras were sparing in the glow they provided; a stark contrast to the rich golden warmth of the ballroom. If not for their formalwear, it might have felt like any other night.

He thought of Ferox. Its unforgiving climate; the summers were arduous, especially for those doing physical labour, which he would be. He probably wouldn’t know anybody, having not made an attempt to get along with Feroxi knights in the past. The food would be difficult to stomach, too - the castle was not his to roam like Ylisstol was. 

There was always something intrusive and uncomfortable about being a guest. Perhaps it was something about the time limit—an unspoken rule. You are free to stay, but only as long as it takes for your presence to flip the balance between a novelty and a nuisance. You are free to do as you please, but remember that nothing here belongs to you. Live quietly and pleasantly, for you are a nomad in an acquaintance’s territory, and it would do you well to understand the rules.

Even the thought of it stressed Frederick out. But, his anxiety gave way to his curiosity, and he felt that empty half of himself ache and burn. Had things gone differently, he’d have been raised in Ferox. He’d have walked on their soil and sand; drank their ale and bled for them. Didn’t he have a claim to that home? Wasn’t Selene’s dusty old office and everything in it more rightly his than any other Feroxi? 

Robin set his cup down, and it echoed in the emptiness of the room. He reached for Frederick’s hand, hanging loosely at his side, and tangled his fingers in it. Maybe Robin wasn’t aware the man he was touching right now was fundamentally altered from his usual reality. Robin did not touch Frederick and feel the searing Feroxi desert, but the sand fell and rose beneath his skin, leaving it crawling and buzzing all over.

Frederick swallowed.

“I need to ask a favour.”

Even looking into his eyes, Robin probably still didn’t see him. “Anything,” he said anyway.

“Tomorrow morning, I leave for Ferox. Will you wait for me?”

Robin’s eyes barely flickered. “Will you tell me why you’re going, and why it has to be alone?”

Both of those questions could be answered the same way, truthfully, but the words were reformed in his mouth so Robin could understand in a way that didn’t hurt him. “I’m going to be visiting my mother’s old workplace; collecting some heirlooms and working under Flavia. It shouldn’t take that much time - not even a full moon. Still, it is too long for someone as important as you are to be away, especially just for a silly errand.”

Robin cradled Frederick’s face in his hands, but his grip was firmer than usual; pulling him down to his level. He stared into the glassiness of Frederick’s eyes - whether he was searching or memorising something was unknown. “You need to find yourself. It’s all right to admit that.”

He felt the ground give out beneath him. “Thank you for understanding.”

“You don’t have to sugarcoat those kinds of feelings with me. Do you think I’ve never dreamt of returning to Plegia?” Once upon a time, those words might have hurt, but Frederick put his own feelings into them, and they fit like a puzzle piece.

“Maybe you should visit,” he replied, and Robin dropped his hands like the words had burned him.

“Not anytime soon. I’m not ready yet.”

The thought of leaving Chrom for as long as Robin might need was a terrifying one, but it needn’t be. They were at peace, were they not? Frederick and Robin could make a to-do list, and leave things in the capable hands of their coworkers. “If you need me to go with you; I’ll go.”

“I love you,” Robin said simply, and that was it.

When they kissed, it felt like something more. More than circumstance and attraction; more than a good rapport and similar intelligence. Robin had chosen him as he was. Robin chose him initially because he was unwavering and then chose him again whilst he wavered. Not due to a subset of personality genres, but as a changing tide; a mountain that built and built with rock over centuries which Robin would keep climbing with intent to reach its peak.   
Frederick steeled his heart to choose Robin back. His trust was to be made in his actions, so when Robin needed him, he’d lean out as far as he could, too. He hoped that Robin would need him so that he could prove it.

Frederick pressed closer, feeling Robin’s starchy shirt under his fingers pressed flat somewhere between his waist and his stomach.   
The feeling of his lips was not a goodbye, but a promise of forever neither of them had the authority to give yet. Their lives would change a thousand times over before they ended, but at this moment, Robin wanted him, and he would still want him when he left for Ferox, and he _wanted_ to still want him by the times of their weddings and retirement. That was all that could be offered by a mortal; owned and shaped by time.

Their kiss was interrupted by the sound of a window sliding open. Frederick turned to look behind him, and a black lump which slid slowly through the gap flinched as it realised it wasn’t alone, and immediately went running for an exit. 

A flash of golden lightning was far quicker than the escape attempt, and the figure sagged at the window frame.   
Robin kept his arm raised as he hurried over to the figure. “Who sent you?”

“Everything hurts…” The figure said. Frederick moved up from behind and dragged the intruder all the way inside.

Throwing them up against the wall, it was easy to remove their hood. Frederick did not recognise the person, and he looked to Robin, who simply shook his head. “If you want to live, you’ll tell us who you are and why you’re here.”

“The Exalt...must be made...an example of,” was all the intruder said, before slumping back against the wall. 

Frederick went cold. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Wait,” Robin put his hand up in a ‘stop’ motion, placing his other palm against the forehead of the intruder.

“What are you doing?”

Robin didn’t answer until he moved his hand away. “Now we don’t have to worry about leaving them here.”

“Did you kill them?” Frederick asked, not that he cared all that much, as they left the kitchen.

The corridor felt longer than when they had first walked it this evening. “They’re unconscious.”

The cogs turned in Frederick’s brain. “You don’t have a tome on you tonight,” he accused.

“I don’t,” Robin confirmed.

“Then how-”

“I don’t know. Do you believe me?”

Frederick answered immediately. “Of course.”

Robin let out an audible sigh. Apparently, scars of their distrust would take a long time to heal. Frederick was willing to wait.

-

“Chrom, Sumia! It’s good to see you, and congratulations to you both.”

Another presence had joined them out on the balcony, and Chrom turned to face Flavia, holding out his hand.  
“It’s good to see you too, Flavia,” Sumia started, “we were wondering where you’d gotten to. Basilio said he lost you at some point during the night.”

“That’s because Basilio hasn’t heard of the word ‘mingling’ before. At any rate, you’re glowing; Sumia! How far along are you?”

“About eighteen weeks now.”

“Gods, it’s almost unbelievable how tiny you still are! You’d better fatten that baby up as soon as it leaves the womb, because it’s going to be small. I should know; I was flat when I was pregnant, too.”

“You have a child?” Chrom asked incredulously. He’d never seen anyone around call Flavia their mother, but maybe he just hadn’t been paying attention.

“I _had_ a son. His name was Miko. He passed during the War of the Southern Pond.” In Ylisse, the event was known as the War of the Northern Pond - a territory dispute on the border of Ferox and Ylisse, while Chrom’s father was on the throne.

“I’m so sorry,” Chrom said, because he didn’t have any other words.

“It’s in the past now. He was a brave boy.”

“Gods, how old was he?” Sumia asked, clutching Flavia’s hand.

Chrom thought the question rather intrusive, but Flavia answered anyway. “He was sixteen.”  
Flavia’s son, then, would have had a few years on Emmeryn had they both still been alive today. “It’s all in the past, though. Your child will grow up in an era of peace, Gods willing.”

The fact that Flavia could look them both in the face with an honest hope as that put rocks in Chrom’s throat. He swallowed them down. “Thank you for everything, Flavia. You are a true ally.”

“A friend, too; I hope. In light of that, I wanted to ask something.”

“Of course.”

“I’d like to take Sir Frederick under my wing for a short while.”

Chrom blinked. “Pardon?”

“I’m shocked you never made me aware he was of better blood,” she joked, elbowing his arm. “He wants to see his mother’s old workspace. It might do him some good to learn about his culture, considering how uptight he is when he comes to visit. Who knows, he might even catch a tan.”

Chrom knew about Frederick’s background, who had assured him it wasn’t particularly a secret. Still, the delicacy of the matter led Chrom to keep silent on it unless Frederick himself brought it up. Formally, Feroxi people could not travel to Ylisse until some years into Emmeryn’s reign, and there were still lingering resentments. Frederick had enough trouble already navigating the castle as a commoner. “I’m assuming you’ve asked him about this?”

“He asked me to go; actually.”

Once again, Chrom was overcome with guilt. He had no idea Frederick had been thinking about this - it was mostly left unspoken even in private. Frederick had grown up in Ylisse, and his Feroxi mother had died long enough ago that she was a distant memory. Chrom and Frederick didn't talk about parents, and he wondered now if that had just been politeness on Frederick's part.

"Of course he can go if he wants to. When was he planning on leaving?"

"Tomorrow. Providing his sweetheart doesn't have an issue."

Tomorrow… It made sense for him to travel back with Basilio and Flavia, but it would still hurt to say such a short goodbye. Chrom would have to be there for his send-off.  
"Robin won't be a problem."

Flavia's eyes widened. "Robin's his sweetheart?"

Chrom couldn't help but huff a laugh. "Don't look so surprised. You could have cut the tension between them with a knife."

"Ah, the thin line between love and hate. Still, it was _you_ Robin used to hold a candle for, wasn't it?"

“Actually; I think it was the other way around,” Sumia interjected with humour.

“Huh?” Chrom whipped his head around to face his wife, who looked innocent as ever.

“I still remember the way you looked at him back when we first found him - it’s like you couldn’t see anybody else for _months_. I was heartbroken.” She tilted her head as she said it, smiling teasingly.

Chrom tried to remember the person he was when he first met Robin.  
Robin had, admittedly, looked like sunshine when he barged into Chrom’s life; pulling up everything at the seams and changing it. He couldn’t remember why they hadn’t ended up together at any point (the Shepherds _really_ dated around), but it seemed like a moot point now. Any inkling of a desire was long gone with how they’d both changed. It was difficult to remember quite what he had seen, now; looking at the glow of his pregnant wife.

“Well, it looks like you won out in the end, eh? Strong girl,” Flavia commented, giving Sumia’s shoulder a friendly pat. “I’m going to find my worthless lug, now, so congratulations again. And, thank you. I really believe it will benefit Frederick to go to Ferox for his own reasons.”

“I’m sure,” Chrom responded, and waited until she left to speak to Sumia. “I don’t have feelings for Robin; you know that, right?”

Sumia’s eyes widened, and at first, Chrom thought she was angry with him, when she looked down, and gestured at her belly with great dramatism. “I think I’m quite aware; thank you.”

“...Good.”

“I used to think he hated me, you know,” Sumia mused, “back when we started dating he hardly spoke to me at _all_.” She scoffed at the thought, before continuing, “it was like I didn’t even exist. Then, one day, he visited the stables - started asking me all of these questions about pegasus riding. I was so shocked I almost forgot how to speak! It made me realise that he didn’t bear any personal grudge - he’s just like that. His attention span,” she clicked her fingers, “is so short. When he needs you; he needs you.”

Chrom smiled knowingly, leaning on the balcony with one arm. “You never did like him, did you?”

Sumia looked wounded. “It’s not that I think he’s a bad guy, or anything; he’s a really good friend to you. He just...makes me feel like I’m invisible.”

Holding out his hand for Sumia to take, Chrom pondered how he’d word the shapeless thoughts in his mind. “Robin is my best friend. When we get on, it’s like magic; he knows me better than I know myself, and I feel like I’m connecting with him. But sometimes, he seems so _unreachable,_ and I wonder why that is. He lives in his own head, Sumia. He’s sharp - impressively so - and a joy to be around, but the way he experiences the world is,” Chrom shook his head, “different.”

“What do you mean, _different_?”

“Imagine you are observing a painting. Who should walk by you but an art scholar, who has spent many years cultivating knowledge of art history and has created many works of art. Would you be able to have a meaningful conversation with that scholar about the painting you see?”

“Are you suggesting that he’s an expert on everything?”

“Rather that he looks upon the world with the gaze of an expert. He sees everything - how the details fit into the big picture. But it makes him difficult to talk to. It’s not that he sees you as lesser, but rather that he feels he couldn’t communicate anything meaningful to you.” Chrom shrugged as he explained.

“It feels like the same thing to me. I wonder how Frederick can get along with him,” she mused; squeezing Chrom’s hand as she looked out to the horizon.

“Someone like Frederick is both naturally intelligent and has spent his life playing catch-up with more educated people. He can understand the language Robin uses and at the same time categorise and steady his thoughts. It’s funny; before all of this, Frederick wielded his understanding of Robin like a weapon. It was devastating to Robin’s psyche - Frederick will be silent for an age, and then dig into your weakest spot with the utmost precision. It didn’t take Robin long to realise that Frederick was a thorn in the side of his reasoning, but it did take him until now to comprehend that he enjoys the challenge of that.”

“You’re a very good judge of character, you know.”  
Chrom turned to look at Sumia, and realised she was staring back at him; the stars in her eyes glinting as her small smile reserved her awe. Sumia focused all her attention on him; saw him, and told him he was special for everything everyone else didn’t notice. 

He gave a wry smile. “I think I just spend too much time listening to them ramble.”

“I think that you listen far better than most people. It makes you a great Exalt and a better man.”  
He leaned in to kiss her, and it was sweet; the ring on his finger a testament to each struggle now being both of theirs to take on. Forever had been decided.

He still remembered how it felt to fall in love with her.

_The evening was drawing steadily into nighttime; the campfire still glowing red but mostly empty of people to sit around it. Chrom did not feel like getting ready for bed yet, so he wandered into Lissa's tent, hoping to bother her for the final hours of the day._

_What he didn't expect was a mass of giggling, and half the Shepherds to be crowded around one table covered with gilded cloth. On his right, a basket sat; in it, a bunch of flowers, each different from the last. Sumia sat at the head of the table. Around the sides, people appeared to be arguing._

_"It's my tent so I should go first!" Lissa pointed to herself aggressively._

_"But I asked first!" Cordelia cried out._

_"Everything okay here?" Chrom asked, and the crowd cooled off with the ripples of his voice; standing straight with embarrassment._

_All except Lissa. "Sumia's doing flower readings!" She explained as if he'd walked into a calm scene._

_"What's a flower reading?"_

_Lissa gaped like he was speaking a foreign language. "It's a way of telling your fortune; Gods, sometimes it's a wonder we grew up in the same place!"_

_"Since he's never done this before, why doesn't Sumia read Chrom's future first?" Stahl pondered, turning Chrom's back as stiff as a board._

_He held his hands up to refuse. "No, it's really all right. You can all get back to doing what you're doing."_

_"Why not? It's not scary; I promise!" Stahl's intent was innocent, but it turned Lissa's face into something menacing._

_"Don't be a coward, Chrom," she said, smiling, and put her hand on the small of his back, shoving him towards the chair opposite Sumia, who looked petrified._

_"He doesn't have to do it if he doesn't want to," Sumia said in a small voice, "fortunes tend to be inaccurate if the participants are unwilling."  
_ _She looked hurt. It's not like Chrom was_ afraid _of having his fortune told, it was just so sudden…_

_Chrom sat down in the chair. "No, it's okay; I'd like to. How does it work?"_

_Sheepishly, Sumia pulled the basket barely an inch closer to the centre of the table. "Pick a flower," she said, tapping the handle, "whichever one calls to you the most. I'll tell you what it means after you pick it."_

_Most of the flowers were ones Chrom didn't know the names of. There was a sunflower in there, and a stem of bluebells.  
_ _He stood from his chair to get a closer look inside the basket.  
_ _At the base was a single pink flower; round and delicate with a yellow middle. It had no stem - just two deep green leaves to frame it. Chrom scooped it up in his palm. The petals felt chalky between his fingers._

_Sumia held out her hands, and he shuffled the flower into hers; noting her hand jumped when their skin brushed. He wondered why she was always so nervous around him - it made him want to be gentler, but no matter how quiet he was, she always seemed to be afraid._

_Studying the flower with interest, she looked up, and met Chrom's eyes perhaps for the first time. "Are you lonely?" She asked, and the sound of it was just a matter but it pierced his core._

_"I," was all he could say. His brain for once couldn't think of something witty to respond with._

_"You know, it's strange;" Sumia began, gaining confidence with each breath, "for someone like you, I'd guess you would pick a larger flower, but this one's a runt, even for its breed."_

_"What does that mean?"_

_Sumia put a finger to her chin, clasping her other hand around the flower loosely. "It could mean that you're lacking confidence. It may also mean that you feel other people don't see you."_

_"Well, I definitely see ya!" Sully had appeared from nowhere to ruffle Chrom's hair. "Don't mind me - I'm not staying; I'm just here for some magic juice." She wiggled her fingers._

_"What did you do this time?" Lissa asked crossly, leading her across the room to her deck chair._

_"Don't be mad," Sully sounded sheepish, which was rare for her, as she rolled up her trouser leg._

_Chrom couldn't see her injury, but he did hear the sound of Lissa's palm hit Sully's ear. He winced in empathy, but was grateful for everyone being distracted.  
_ _"And what if I don't have any confidence?" He asked lowly, bringing only Sumia back to attention._

_Her motion was cautious; slow, but she gained confidence as she slid her free hand into Chrom's own. "Fake it," she said._

_"I have been."_

_She squeezed his hand. "Your position is...delicate. If you fall, we all do - and that's a heavy weight to bear. So fake it, and come to people you can trust when it gets too much." She hesitated, and then continued. "You can come to me, if you'd like."_

_Chrom let out a dry laugh. "You're afraid of me," he pointed out._

_"How could I be afraid of you? You've been nothing but kind to me."_

_To make his point, he loosened his grip on her hand, and grabbed at her wrist. She jumped. "See - you're-" he was about to continue, but stopped to assess. Sumia's face was bright red._

_"As I said, I'm not afraid of you." From her averted gaze, she looked up to stare at him pointedly._

_Dawn broke in Chrom's brain. "...Would you like to go on a date with me?"_

_"What?!" Sumia yelled, catching the attention of the group. She dropped the flower to cover her mouth._

_Chrom unseated himself, turning to leave. "Think about what I said. I'll wait for your answer after tomorrow's meeting."_

_He didn't stay for her response; exiting the tent before the others could ask him any questions.  
_ _The stars stared down at him judgmentally._

_"Lacking confidence, eh?"_

Even now, Sumia was Chrom's strength. She understood that not everything could be solved so easily, unlike everybody else, who tried to rectify his problems for him. Sumia didn't treat him like a child. They could cast their gaze over the kingdom as equals. 

"Not to end the party early, but I think I need to go and sit somewhere quiet." Sumia looked green in the face; bracing against the railing for balance.

Chrom caught her free arm. "Let's go back to our quarters."

She swatted at him. "You need to mingle. Let me go by myself."

"There's no way I'm leaving you." Sumia turned to argue, but whatever she saw in his face evaporated her stubbornness. She shrugged, and let him walk her to the doors.

Surprisingly, the corridors were empty. Nobody was drunk enough yet to need a quiet place to retch, Chrom thought to himself amusedly. 

They made their way around the corner slowly; Sumia's steps turned to a shuffle. Exhaustion seemed to pass over her in a wave. She rested her weight on Chrom's side.

There was a muffled noise from behind them. Chrom felt himself tense, but kept his gaze forward. If whoever was following was friendly, they'd announce their presence. If not, then he had the Falchion at his side; strapped to his waist as it always was.   
The noise didn't get any quieter. Chrom set his shoulders. 

"Should we rest here?" He pointed to a large stained glass window. Sumia looked at him, confused. _'Trust me,'_ he whispered, and she nodded; bracing herself against the windowsill. 

Turning towards the noise, Chrom unsheathed his sword. "Show yourself," he commanded.

What he didn't expect was a knife to come up from behind him, snaking around his neck. "What kind of ruler doesn't have personal bodyguards?" The voice was amused.

"Who sent you? What is it that you want?" Chrom chanced turning his head, to see that Sumia had been approached too. She let their sword sit below her chin, unmoving. Panic set in his gut.

"I wonder, is it worth answering a dead man's questions?"

Chrom grit his teeth. "Don't be a coward. Show yourself."

"You wouldn't know who I was even if I did."

"I prefer to face the people I kill."

"Consider us unalike in that way."

There was a tense silence. Chrom assessed his situation: it was possible for him to get out of this alive, but Sumia was unarmed and in danger. Unless he went for her first. It would put his life in forfeit, but there was simply no other way.

The knife scraped lightly against his neck; Chrom having to dodge out the way to miss a real slice. The person behind him was distracted. He turned, and they'd been thrown to the floor, a sword at their neck.

"Kill her and the woman dies," the other intruder spat, and their newcomer looked up in shock.

"Marth?!" Chrom gasped at the familiar - masked - face. 

"Let her up!" The intruder spat again, and Marth looked conflicted.

"Please, Marth," Chrom begged. Marth loosened his grip.

"No, you don't!" Whipping his head back around, Chrom spied Robin and Frederick, running to their rescue. Robin clicked lightning between his fingers. "Let go of the Governess or I'll incinerate you from the inside out."

"And what if I kill her first?"

"You want to chance your speed against lightning?" Robin asked incredulously.

Considering his options, the intruder lowered his sword and stepped back from Sumia. "Drop the weapon," Chrom commanded. It clattered to the ground. 

Immediately, a tiny spurt of lightning let loose from Robin's fingers. The intruder collapsed to the ground.  
The other intruder gasped a plea at the tip of Marth's sword. 

"There's no need to keep them alive," Marth said, "I already know why they're here."

"Knock her out and tie them both up."

"Don't you trust me?" Marth asked incredulously. 

"I don't trust anybody right now." Chrom rushed over to Sumia, encasing her in his arms. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just really want to rest."

"I'll take you back."

"Chrom, the intruders need to be dealt with," she reminded.

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"Milord," Frederick interrupted; a hand on his shoulder. "I can take her back - you have my assurance that I will not leave her side until you return."

Knowing she'd be safe with Frederick, and that he didn't have much choice, Chrom nodded. He picked up the intruder's sword and handed it to Frederick. "Call for reinforcements on your way back. They will not have come alone."

Frederick offered his free hand to Sumia, and she took it, but she refused to lean on him as she did with Chrom. She probably didn't want to seem weak.

Chrom watched them leave.

"Robin, Marth; take the big one together. I'll take the little one." Slinging the intruder over his shoulder, Chrom walked quickly towards the staircase. "We'll interrogate them in the dungeons."

"Who are they working for, Marth?" Robin asked.

"I can't tell you here - the walls have ears."

Seeming to accept that, Robin was silent for the rest of their journey.

-

The dungeons were dingy, and scarcely staffed thanks to the night's events. The cells were all empty, though, so they chucked a body in either side of the far hall, so they couldn't speak to each other.

Chrom led them back out to the watchpoint and sat down at a small wooden table lit by lantern light. "Private enough for you?" He pressed his fingers against his forehead as Marth and Robin sat down.

"The intruders are Ylissean," Marth confirmed, "they're assassins, and belong to a Lord of the old official Counsel. I'm not exactly sure which, but I could narrow it down for you."

Chrom bristled. The counsel he'd dismissed in a fit of rage all those months ago? "Why would they wait to attack now? That makes no sense."

Marth pursed his lips. "If you don't believe me, then there's no point in even discussing it. I'm going to investigate regardless."

"How do you know who the assassins belong to?" Robin asked with a suspicious calm.

Marth gripped the edge of the table. "I can't tell you that."

"Then how are we supposed to trust you?" Chrom interjected.

Marth was at a loss for words.

"It's true, your words are difficult to verify - we have no reason to believe you," Robin agreed.

Marth sighed. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I'm not even sure that, after I show you, you'll even believe me."

"Show us?" Chrom asked.

Hesitating for a long moment, Marth removed his mask. Long hair fell out from behind his face. He looked to Chrom, and pointed to his eye. "Do you see this?"

"How do you have…"

"Is this enough proof that I can be trusted?"

"Yes," Chrom answered, as Robin said "no". They shared a heated gaze. "Robin, it's okay."

"I want to investigate more," Robin protested, "before we make a judgement."

"Did I give _you_ this level of mistrust when I took you in?"

"Nobody was trying to kill you when you took me in!" Robin spat.

Chrom sat back in his chair. "Gods, Frederick really has rubbed off on you, hasn't he?" Robin's jaw set indignantly. "Be that as it may, I have the last word. We trust Marth. Any investigating can be done while he is present."

"Marth, can we talk alone?" Robin asked.

"Must you defy me at every step?" Chrom asked bitterly.

Hesitantly, Marth placed his hand against Chrom's bicep. "It's all right. I'd rather he trust me fully."

Nodding tiredly, Chrom dismissed them both with a flick of his hand.

-

Robin led Marth down the corridor, their steps echoing in the emptiness of the dungeon. When they were far enough away that he was sure they would not be heard, Robin backed up against a wall.

Marth stood expectantly.

"You won't tell him anything. Why?"

"I can tell you, but only if you give me your word you'll keep it from Chrom until the time is right."

"Fine," Robin answered.

"It might affect the future."

"You can't just say something like that and not explain yourself."

"I don't know how to say this any other way, so brace yourself. I am the future princess of Ylisse. If I tell Chrom my name, then it might affect the naming of his child."

That was not what Robin was expecting to hear. "How can I believe you?"

"Would I lie about something so unbelievable?"

"How did you get here from the future?"

"A portal."

"And where did the portal come from?" Robin was losing his patience.

"...I don't know."

"So you just got into some random portal?"

"I saw Ylisse in it! For the first time in years, I was able to see this country whole."

"What do you mean, for the first time in years?"

"Why do you think I am here, Robin?"

Robin’s face fell. "What happens to Ylisse?"

"I think you already know the answer to that," Marth sighed.

"How?" It was posed less like a question, and more like a demand.

Marth shook her head. "The Fell Dragon."

" _Who?_ "

"The Dragon was working with the assassins, I think - it's hard to know for certain. Nearly everybody in Ylisse died afterwards."

"So you're here to stop a dragon? Alone?" Robin scoffed, his heart beating a mile a minute.

"Not alone. With the help of the Shepherds."

He shook his head. "Give me some assurance."

"What more can I give you that I haven’t already?"

"Your name."

"Lucina," she responded.

"Well, Lucina - if nothing else, time will tell if you're lying."

-

Frederick stood at the door on the inside of Chrom and Sumia's room. The armchairs were looking steadily more comfortable as the night went on, but Frederick would only dream of using it as a safe place to house his suit jacket.

The stillness of the lump under the sheets suggested Sumia was probably asleep. She hadn't argued about having Frederick in the room while she slept, although he insisted the remainder of the guards be positioned outside for her comfort and privacy.  
She hadn't seemed to care all that much about privacy, hardly giving Frederick the time to avert his eyes before she changed into her nightwear. He had wondered, facing the wall with embarrassment, if dating Robin made him inoffensive to the women around him. He disapproved of it, even if he knew he only had eyes for his boyfriend. 

"Frederick?"

"Milady, I thought you were asleep."

"I think I'm going to be sick," she said weakly.

Frederick rushed to her side, fetching a chamber pot from under the bed in time for her to dry heave into it. He did his best to pull her hair back with one hand while he held the chamber pot in the other.  
Once he was sure she'd spat out everything possible, he patted her on the back and went to find their water kettle. "Is this regular for you?"

"Pretty much," she sighed. "The little one disagrees with almost everything I consume, and somersaults like a circus monkey at all hours of the evening."  
Frederick knelt in front of Sumia, offering her a cup. She sat up, taking it from him gratefully. "It's gonna be a toughie to raise, I can just tell." Sumia patted her stomach affectionately despite her words.

"Any child of yours is sure to grow up splendidly, Milady."

"Thank you, Frederick." She sighed. "I heard you're going to Ferox tomorrow."

"Not after this. I shall stay for enough time to see justice served."

"Chrom would want you to go."

"Lord Chrom wants a great deal of unreasonable things. I could not grant every single one of them and feel like I am doing my job correctly."

"You're not his father, Frederick."

"I'm aware of that." 

She leaned forward on her elbow. "Are you?"

"What do you mean by that?"

Sumia gave him a withering look. "You've been his personal shadow for five years. Isn't it time you let him grow?"

"Milady, with all due respect, is now really the moment to be asking for this?"

"I think it's the perfect moment." She argued with passion for a moment, before changing her tone. "I understand you care for him. But if you dote on him so, what will happen when you build a family of your own? Even now? What happens if you have to choose between Chrom and Robin?"

Frederick lowered his head and swallowed. "Lord Chrom and yourself are in far more danger than Robin is. He will understand."

"Are you ridiculous?! He's your boyfriend! He should be more important than anybody."

"If my Lord is in danger, and my boyfriend would like to have dinner with me on the same night, what then should I choose?"

"If you believe your Lord to be in danger forever, then your boyfriend will eat alone every night."

Frederick pursed his lips. He couldn't deny her correctness in theory, but the situation was different. "I cannot go to Ferox, Milady."

"You can and you will, Frederick. We have plenty of capable guards."

"As capable as I am?" Sumia gave a wry smile. "Milady, I am….afraid to leave him."

"It's going to be okay, Frederick," she told him, and he tried to breathe in the words as if he could consume their reassurance whole; turn the air in his lungs from fiery to cool with the watery waves they brought.

"If he needs me, promise me you'll send for me."

"Of course. I ask for only one thing in return."

"What can I do for you?"

"Tell me about Ferox upon your return."

Frederick was lost. "Milady, you've been there."

"Only as a member of the Shepherds. I don't know about their culture; not really."

"...Are you honestly interested?"

"Isn't it only right to be interested in the people around you?"

"To a point," Frederick responded.

"Do you think it's strange that I want to know?" She asked, handing him her empty cup so she could stretch out on the bed.

"A little," he admitted. Even _he_ had spent most of his life uninterested, and he had blood relation.

"I believe," Sumia began, "that people are not all born the same, and it's one thing people struggle with their whole lives. If you understand a little about them, then it makes it easier to accept."

Frederick set Sumia's glass down on the armoire opposite from her, unable to look her way. "My mother had to hide away in her house on most days. I couldn't talk about being Feroxi - I learned to be ashamed of it. Existing as Feroxi in Ylisse was taboo. In some ways, it still is. Do you really think that's solved by 'understanding a little' about the culture?"

"I suppose not," Frederick wasn't sure if she was reconciling, or just trying to calm him down. "My apologies, Frederick."

"It is perfectly fine….You should rest."

Sumia seemed to accept this. "All right."

He resumed his position at the door and tried not to feel irritated.

-

The night had been arduous; Robin trying his best to make a plan between himself, Chrom and Marth - especially with Chrom on the warpath, there to shoot down Robin's ideas with a ferocity previously unseen in him.   
He'd never known Chrom so highly strung, and wondered if it was just an effect of his stress, or something underlying.

Knowing the dangers of attempting to figure things out on his own, he stopped Chrom after they'd led Marth to his own private quarters. "Can we talk?"

Chrom smiled, but it was tired. "Robin, I need to get back to my wife."

"Five minutes?" Chrom didn't budge. "Please, don't shut me out." Robin’s voice cracked, embarrassingly, but it was enough to make Chrom soften.

"I'm sorry." He wound an arm around Robin's shoulders.

"What are you thinking, Chrom? I keep trying to work it out, and it's driving me up the wall."

Chrom huffed a laugh. "I'm thinking that I’ve had a very long day."

"I mean about us," Robin persevered, burying himself in Chrom's comforting scent as if he was trying to recall a version of him who wouldn’t push him away.

"I'm thinking that...I want you to trust me more. Not just in the sense of trusting my moral compass, but my judgement, too."

Robin's stomach bottomed out. "I'm sorry. It’s not that I think your judgement is bad - I know that you're capable. I just worry about you so much."

"I understand that you worry. But sometimes you make me feel like a child."

A prickly feeling rose up Robin's throat and into his eyes, but he wouldn't let himself cry. This was about Chrom, after all. "Next time, when you ask me to keep my nose out, I will. I don’t intend to make you feel like a child - I'm just such a control freak."

"I've noticed," Chrom said with dry humour, but his hand went to Robin's hair. "I know you care about me. And I'm thankful for it every day that I live. Thank you, Robin."

"I should be the one thanking you."

"Hm?"

"You gave me everything. A home, a family - freedom. All I want to do is repay your kindness."

"I didn’t do it so that you'd repay me. I did it so that you would live a happy life," Chrom grumbled. "Can you do that for me?"

"I can try," Robin responded, but it was barely a whisper. Chrom kissed his head, and let him go slowly. Robin blinked back his tears and adjusted to the light.

"I have to go now. We'll talk more tomorrow, all right?"

It was all Robin could do to nod. He balled his hands into fists and made his way to his quarters in the opposite direction as Chrom.

Only, he didn't want to be alone tonight. There was a strong chance Frederick would refuse to leave for Ferox in the morning, but even so, Robin craved his company. Chrom would probably send Frederick away once he reached his quarters.

-

Frederick was surprised to find Robin waiting outside his door; arms crossed and eyes closed so relaxed that he could have been asleep. He always told Frederick that his footsteps were loud enough to be heard on the other side of the castle, but he didn’t seem to stir once approached.  
When Frederick put his hand on Robin’s shoulder, though, his eyes slid open unperturbed. He gave Frederick a small smile. “Hi.”

“I thought you’d be ready for bed by now,” Frederick commented, fixing where Robin’s dress shirt had rumpled.

“I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

“You have a key to my room,” he pointed out as he unlocked his door.

Robin didn’t take his eyes off Frederick’s hands. “I didn’t want to enter without permission,” he said simply.

A pout fell onto his lips before he could shield his expression. He opened the door before he replied, making a show of inviting Robin in. “A key _is_ permission.”

Closing them inside, Robin slid Frederick’s blazer off his shoulders, folding it on his arm. He stared at Frederick impassively. “Everybody needs to be alone sometimes,” he replied, and turned to rest the blazer neatly on the back of Frederick’s armchair.

Frederick followed behind Robin, curling arms around his middle and pressing a kiss to his hair. “Even if that’s true, I want a place that we can both call home.” Robin said nothing, but drew his hands down slowly to rest over Frederick’s. “It might be... _improper_...to ask for a reassignment to shared quarters right now, so until we do - think of this as our space. And I want - no, I _expect_ , that you use it whenever you wish to while I am away."

Robin turned his chin up to look at Frederick upside down. “What if I mess up your stuff?” He smiled, but it was humourless.

"I'll clean up after you. Dare I say it, it might be worth the tidying to have you stay with me."

"Oh, you do say the most romantic things," Robin replied, straining upwards for a kiss.

It was barely a peck, and the chasteness of it drew Frederick in. He turned Robin round to face him, backing him against the wall.  
Robin hooked his leg around Frederick’s hip, his arms hanging loosely around Frederick’s shoulders. It made it even more difficult to undo Robin’s shirt while they were kissing. He managed, though, slipping it off with Robin’s jacket in one fell swoop. Robin peeled Frederick’s shirt off as well; massaging his hips as Frederick leant down to suck on Robin’s neck.

Gripping Frederick’s bicep suddenly, Robin breathed in audibly. “I’d let you leave a mark, you know.”

Frederick smiled, pressing his forehead in the dip between Robin’s shoulder and collarbone. “You want me to give you a hickey?”

“Yeah,” was all Robin replied.

He considered it.  
Hickeys were not particularly Frederick’s style - receiving them was awkward and left you with a mark that was at best unprofessional and at worst an awkward explanation that usually meant everybody in the castle would know you were engaging in sexual behaviours. But the cat was long-since out of the bag when it came to their relationship, and it was hardly a secret that they spent so many nights together. 

Pressing his lips just above the dip in Robin’s neck, he felt the vague pump of his pulse. He opened his mouth and sucked, hard. It was difficult to see if he was making any real impact in the darkness of his bedroom, so he continued sucking. The sound of his mouth and Robin’s breath was all that could be heard.  
When he was satisfied that he could see a dark spot forming, he laced his right hand into Robin’s, pulling him across to the other side of the room. He sat back on the bed and guided Robin onto his lap.

“Even if I’m gone, that should stay for a while. I suppose I see the appeal of things like this.” 

Robin was a solid weight on Frederick’s thighs; pressing close in areas that sent jolts through where Frederick was most sensitive. Robin made him ache to be touched. Sliding his hands across Frederick’s shoulders teasingly, as if he had read his mind, Robin pouted. “You’re really going, huh.”

“I’ll be back,” he promised. 

“We’ll have to make tonight memorable - like a goodbye present.”

Frederick sighed. “It’s not goodbye.” In spite of that, he was giving in to his own sense of urgency; ghosting his hands down Robin’s lower back and memorising the plains of him. The traces of scars from the battles they’d fought to get here - that massive, mystery scar on the front of his chest. Frederick often ignored it, unsure of the best course of action - not even Robin seemed to know how to feel about it, and if he noticed Frederick’s hesitance to acknowledge its existence, he didn’t say anything.  
Tonight, though; Frederick leant down to kiss where it began just above Robin’s left breast. He felt Robin’s body still at the touch. “I love you,” Frederick said.

Robin tapped his fingers impatiently against the back of Frederick’s neck. “Have sex with me.”

“Now what was that you said about being romantic?” Frederick sighed at Robin’s laugh, and tipped him over onto the bed. Gripping Robin’s calves, he pulled them apart and slotted himself right in the middle. Robin lifted his hips, desperately seeking friction as he seared Frederick’s lips with his kisses. He felt the swell of Robin’s erection through their dress trousers. Running his hands down Robin’s legs, Frederick’s hands settled on his hips, and pulled them flush against each other.

The hitch in Robin's breath was audible.  
He snaked his hands around Frederick's shoulders and they humped like teenagers; Frederick pressing his erection unabashedly against Robin’s as they strained to be touched more. Frederick kissed Robin's neck on the unmarked side and imagined what it'd be like to really thrust inside him.   
"I want to finger you again."

"Oh," Robin’s voice cracked over one syllable.

Frederick’s heart began to pound uneasily. “Only if you want to. If you didn’t like it, then that’s fine.”

“No, I liked it. I just thought we’d maybe...go all the way tonight.”

“You aren’t ready to go all the way.”

“Says who?”

“Says the fact that I fingered you for the first time _yesterday_.”

Robin plopped his head back on the bed cushion dramatically. “So much for my goodbye present…”

“We still need to figure out if you want to do it this way.”

Robin was silent for a moment. “This way? ...Like, you’d let me be on top?”

Frederick stilled. “Of course I would. In fact, I’ve only ever _not_ done it that way once before. Things between us just seemed to work out on the contrary.”

Robin curled his fingers around Frederick’s shoulder. “Frederick, that is _so_ hot.”

Shifting upwards until he was kneeling over Robin, Frederick ran a hand through his hair. “You like the idea?”

“Of sticking my cock inside you? Fuck yeah, I do.”

Frederick couldn’t stop a tut from leaving his mouth. “Must you make everything sound so vulgar?”

Robin fiddled with the buttons of Frederick’s fly, slipping his fingers just under the material. “You don’t like the thought of it?”

“That is not what I said,” Frederick replied.

“Well, say, just hypothetically,” Robin began, reaching down to massage Frederick’s hard cock through his trousers, “that I finger _you_ tonight, and that way, while you’re gone, I can think clearly about what I want. You know; so it’s equal.”

Frederick flicked the top button of his fly undone. “I’d be willing to allow it.”

-

And thus, Frederick found himself lying flat on his back, completely naked, with his knees up and feet flat on the bed.  
Robin licked his lips, leaving the jar of lubricant abandoned at their sides as he brought his head down to kiss Frederick’s thighs. 

It was incredible how much the slightest touch from Robin could send jolts up Frederick’s spine - to be held by him was _heavenly_ ; a privilege that was as warm and tender as it was exciting.   
Above all else, Robin always made Frederick feel wanted in a way that was equal parts desire and value. It was easier to bare his body and his soul than it had ever been. To think that Frederick had once distrusted the man who would later become his confidant. That version of himself was alien. 

"You look so sexy right now," Robin punctuated his sentence by licking wetly all the way up Frederick’s cock and swallowing him down once he reached the tip. 

Frederick's gasp became the beginning of a moan; he threw his arm over his face to cover his mouth as he indulged in the feeling.

Robin released him. "You should let me hear you. It'll feel better that way."

"For who?" Frederick breathed, and Robin only laughed, taking him back in his mouth.  
"Haah," he gasped, gripping the pillow above him so as to not cover his mouth again. “Mm...Robin…”  
Robin hummed appreciatively at the sound of his own name. “Robin, I,” his voice cracked when he said it. 

Once again, the sensation of being swallowed left. “You’re doing so well,” Robin praised, kissing Frederick’s tip before he sat up to grab the lubricant beside them. He uncapped the jar. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Frederick responded, watching keenly as Robin dipped his fingers into the jar. They came out dripping with the translucent, sticky substance. 

Robin bent down again. “Spread your legs.”  
Frederick shifted his knees up and back. If there was any part of him that Robin hadn’t seen already, it had been exposed by this position. Robin looked serious, for once, though, and he pressed a cold index finger to the outer ring of Frederick’s asshole. “Okay?” Robin asked, swirling his finger around the outside.

Frederick nodded. Robin lubed up his free hand; pumping the base of Frederick’s cock as he entered him with his finger. 

The intrusion was not unfamiliar, though he tensed around it. It had been a while since Frederick had even pleasured himself in this way. “It feels like you’re sucking me in,” Robin commented, fascinated. He watched keenly and buried his finger in slowly deeper. The pain was slight, predictable and bearable, so Frederick said nothing as Robin’s finger moved around inside him. “Can I put in another?”

“Just one for now,” Frederick replied sternly, “you can move it, though.”  
Robin made like he was going to pull his finger out, and then slid it back inside. It took a few tries before it wasn’t painful anymore. “Try curling your fingers a bit.” Remembering Frederick’s cock, he stroked it firmly as he obediently followed Frederick’s instruction.   
When it finally started to feel normal, Frederick spoke again. “You can put another finger in.”

“Okay,” Robin had gone tense; biting his lip as he reached back in with two fingers and stroked Frederick’s cock absentmindedly. “Am I even doing this right?”

“You’re doing fine.”

“What if my fingers don’t reach deep enough to find your... _y’know..._?”

Frederick breathed a laugh. “It’s not that deep. Even if it was, Robin, your fingers are certainly long enough.”

Robin finally cracked a smile. “You think my fingers are long?”

“They are one of your most graceful features,” Frederick confirmed.

Crooking his fingers as he continued to stroke, Robin asked, “do you think a lot about my fingers?”  
Frederick licked his bottom lip nervously. Robin’s fingers were...a particular issue. When he brushed his front curls behind his ears, or nibbled on the tip of his thumb deep in thought...they were always so methodical; so _sure_ , intelligent hands. To be doted on with their attention made Frederick breathless.  
Those clever fingers became surer in their path; pushing deeper and pressing firmly against Frederick’s sensitive flesh. “So you _do_ think about them,” Robin’s voice was deep as he spoke. “We need to work on you being honest about what you want; Frederick.”

“This _is_ what I want,” Frederick replied, rolling his hips in tune with Robin’s fingers.

“And yet, I never even knew.” Robin stopped stroking Frederick’s cock, and put his free fingers in his mouth; sucking them clean of the lubricant. He kneeled over and presented the hand to Frederick. “Suck.”

Frederick’s heart pumped loudly in his chest at the challenge of being ordered about, but he opened his mouth anyway; keeping eye contact with Robin as he licked between his index and middle fingers, swirling at their tips. He downed them in one movement, flittering his tongue through to Robin’s knuckle, and back up again. Robin sucked in a breath, and his fingers hesitated inside Frederick’s asshole.  
Frederick used his canines to ever so lightly _brush_ against the pads of Robin’s fingers. Robin’s gaze faltered only for a moment. He seemed determined to keep their staring contest. Frederick hollowed his cheeks out, sucking up and down like he had Robin’s cock in his mouth.

Robin stroked Frederick’s prostate with a teasing firmness. “I bet you like being plugged up by my hands at both ends.”  
Frederick had to close his eyes at that; shamefully turned on by the thought. The fingers in his mouth pressed his tongue. “I’m going to take these out now.”

Moving back to his previous position between Frederick’s legs, Robin pushed in and out minimally; focusing on curling his fingers in a way he’d quickly learned how much Frederick liked.  
Frederick ran his hand through his hair; pulling his right knee upwards to gain some grounding as he pushed against Robin’s fingers. Robin took advantage of his position to tuck his left arm under Frederick’s leg and pull their bodies closer. He kissed Frederick’s thigh wetly, closing in dangerously near to his aching erection but never quite touching it. It was as frustrating as it was enjoyable. Frederick knew he was close - just being stimulated from behind gave an indescribable pleasure that bordered on pain from bursting at the seams. 

“Ngh,” Frederick moaned; his feet sliding against the sheets as he writhed. Robin held fast while keeping up the pace. Frederick felt drool running down the side of his mouth where it hung open. 

“You’re doing so good,” Robin reassured.

Frederick had lost all capability for words, so he simply gripped Robin’s left hand, pressing it to his cock needily.

Robin was merciful, and began to jerk him off again. It only took a few strokes for Frederick to cum all over himself; pushing further into it as he rode Robin’s fingers until he was numb inside.

All that was left in the room was the sound of his panting. 

“Pretty good, huh,” Robin gave a self-satisfied smile, massaging Frederick’s thighs lovingly with his thumbs.

“Come here,” Frederick opened his arms, and Robin lay gingerly on his front, trying to avoid the mess while they kissed. Frederick doubted he succeeded, though, feeling their chests brush against each other. Even kissing became difficult. His orgasm had taken everything out of him. “I’m exhausted,” he said against Robin’s lips.

Robin pecked him once, and rolled off the bed. “I’ll clean you off; we can go to sleep.”

Stretching his arms up above the bed, Frederick let out a tired groan. “You haven’t cum yet.”

A towel hit him in the face. “Just because you have, doesn’t mean I have to. You have a big day tomorrow.”

Frederick wiped himself down and chucked the towel on the floor, eyeing Robin, through whose crumpled dress pants, an obvious tent could be seen. “I want to.”

“I don’t want you to fall asleep on my dick.”

“Do you want to cum, yes or no?”

Robin crossed his arms, standing at the edge of the bed. “Yes.”

“Then take everything off and sit on my chest.”

No sooner than he heard the sound of material hitting the floor, Robin was climbing over him. “Like this?”

“Come further up.” Frederick pulled Robin by the thighs until his knees hit the mattress either side of Frederick’s head. Frederick sat up a little against the pillows. “You can...fuck my mouth like this.”

Robin spluttered. “Pardon?”

Frederick could feel the blush heating his cheeks even if it was too dark to be seen. “I don’t think I have the speed to make you cum on my own. You said you wanted a goodbye present.”

Thumbing at Frederick’s lip, Robin shifted his weight to sit a little heavier on his chest. “And you said it wasn’t goodbye.”  
Robin’s cock stood half-mast in front of Frederick’s face. It was very difficult to keep up an intelligent conversation, so Frederick put his hand around it instead. He swirled the precum around the tip, playing with the slit almost absentmindedly. Robin watched him for a little while with interest before cupping his jaw in his hand. “Open your mouth,” he said.

Frederick obeyed, shifting even further upwards to accommodate the angle at which Robin sat. He stuck out his tongue; laid flat like a welcome mat - and Robin definitely appeared welcomed. Guiding the tip of his dick to sit on Frederick’s tongue, Robin cupped Frederick’s face and slid the tiniest amount further inside.  
Frederick balled his hand into a fist; determined to fight his gag reflex as he closed his mouth around Robin’s cock. 

Robin squinted with concentration. “If it gets too much, then pat me.” With that, he pushed Frederick’s head slowly forward. It was difficult to give up control of his body, especially with a large object coming steadily closer to hitting the back of his throat. Robin only thrust halfway inside before pulling out, though; and Frederick appreciated the consideration.

It was an incredibly slow start. So slow that Frederick’s mind started to wander, and he was thinking about the Feroxi meals he’d have to endure again - damn it, this was _really_ not the time.

He decided to take matters into his own hands.

Swirling his tongue around the underside, Frederick bobbed his head down deep enough to take all of Robin in his mouth. He felt the tip hit the back of his neck and continued; looking Robin in the eye as he thumbed his balls.

Robin took the hint enthusiastically. Gripping the back of Frederick’s hair, Robin moved in time with his mouth. His pace quickened, and Frederick found himself bashing his nose against Robin’s crotch a few times too many, but how into it Robin seemed to be made everything worth it.

“You feel...so good,” Robin panted. His thrusts were starting to get less precise, and his breathing heavier, which was a good sign; considering the tears brimming at the corners of Frederick’s eyes, there would only be a short few seconds before he stopped being able to see what he was doing. Not that it much mattered. He was completely in rhythm; summoning energy out of somewhere as he tried to bring Robin over the edge.

Robin’s fingers pressed harshly into the back of Frederick’s neck. His hips ground a short once, twice; three times, before his cum began to splatter down Frederick’s throat. Robin let out a whine at his peak - high-pitched and stuttered, Frederick’s thought-dead cock twitched to life at the sound. 

For a moment, Robin was entirely still. He removed his dick slowly, and picked up their discarded towel for Frederick to spit any cum from his tongue before he swallowed. Robin patted down his mouth with the other side.

“You were incredible.”

“Thank you,” Frederick responded, and his throat felt like sandpaper, making his voice come out all wrong. 

Robin raised an eyebrow. “Do you want some water?”

Frederick simply nodded, rubbing his throat with a hand as if that would cure him. Taking the cup from Robin’s hands, Frederick watched him clamber over to the other side of the bed and snuggle under the covers. He took a couple of sips before he spoke again. “Let’s stay up a little longer.”

“You said you were tired.” Robin stared up at him with wide, bright eyes, clutching the pillow from its underside.

“I am. But some things outweigh petty physical needs.”

From his lying position, Robin embraced Frederick awkwardly around his waist. The sentiment of touch was enough. Frederick downed his water in one gulp and set it on the ground beside him so he could snuggle in under the covers next to Robin.

Robin caressed Frederick’s cheek, and at first, it seemed a gesture of affection, before it turned more probing; his thumb tracing the shell of Frederick’s ear all the way down to his jawline like he was trying to memorise the shapes of him. “I miss you,” he said.

“I’m here,” Frederick assured.

“I know. I still miss you.”

The anchor tied to Frederick’s heart fell lower; he felt it pulling in his gut and making him sick. He never knew leaving Robin would be this hard. He was quite tempted to ask Robin to come with him, but he was sure that it would be imposing on Flavia far too much. “I’ll be back before you know it. I’m sure Lord Chrom will enlist you in his baby planning in my absence.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “It’ll be something to busy myself with. I think I’ll sleep in here every night, though,” he said, brushing the blanket with his hand.

“You have to let them change the sheets,” Frederick reminded knowingly.

“Maybe.”

“Over there,” Frederick pointed in the dark to his closet, “I have a collection of cardigans and jackets that have been worn since washing. I expect you to wear those if you miss me, and change the damn sheets.”

“Fine,” Robin grumbled. “Expect to have no clean clothes when you get back.”

“I’m sure I can find something creative to do while I wait for my clothes to be washed,” Frederick said suggestively, and Robin snorted, snuggling closer. Frederick pulled him against his chest. “No matter where I go, I will always come back to you,” he promised.

“I hope so. I will never love anyone else.”

“Don’t be so sure. Maybe a bigger, hairier, more boring man will come along to suit your needs in my absence.”

Robin conked Frederick on the head. “Don’t even joke about that!”

Frederick couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“You have such a sick sense of humour. To think the time you finally crack a joke it’s about palming me off on some... _werewolf_.”

“I thought you liked big, hairy guys.”

“I like _you_ , you oaf!”

“Will you like me even if I get bigger and hairier?”

“Yes, but if you keep talking I might change my mind.”

“You wound me, lover.”

Robin clambered over Frederick to stare into his eyes. “I’m yours,” he stated finally.

“I know.”

“No, I want you to say it.”

“You want me to tell you that you’re mine?”

“Well, since you seem to have forgotten.”

Frederick leaned up to kiss Robin’s cheek. “You’re mine.” He kissed his nose. “I love you.” He kissed his chin. “I love you and you’re mine.” Robin giggled at the gesture, and Frederick said his final words with his lips brushing against Robin’s throat. “It would break my heart if you found anybody else.”

“Then no more talk about big, hairy guys. You’re the only big hairy guy I see.”

“Somehow, I think that might be the least romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Robin laughed aloud, laying his head flat against Frederick’s chest. “I have my own genre of romance.”

“I fall for it more and more every day.”

“ _Aww_...Freddy,” Robin cooed, “you’re so sweet. I can’t wait for you to come home.”

“I’ll write you,” Frederick promised, “I don’t know how often I’ll be able to. But I will keep in touch with the best of my ability.”

“That’s so romantic...love letters from my sweetheart in another nation.”

Frederick tangled his fingers in Robin’s hair. “I’m glad you approve of the idea.”

“You should scent them, too... enclose some Feroxi chocolates in there…”

“Don’t get carried away, now,” Frederick chastised, but in his mind, it wasn’t a bad idea, really. Perhaps he could press some flowers in there, too.

“Frederick,” Robin mumbled.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m gonna fall asleep; I’m sorry.”

Frederick closed his arms around Robin, feeling his chest ache. “It’s all right. Sleep well.”

“Mmhm.”

The silence in the room was final. It was the blankness at the end of a chapter; that cream space on the page - the emptiness of knowing everything had been said. And that was it, wasn’t it? Robin’s words for him would be minimal at dawn. They might share one more kiss if he was lucky. All he could do was count down the seconds he could still hold his lover in his arms. And after then, a new emptiness would begin. 

But his lover would be waiting for him. All he need do was return to Ylisse.  
  
-

JULY 2ND

As much as Frederick should hesitate to leave Chrom’s side, things truly had changed in the era of peace. Being an advisor was not as much work as he had hoped; alongside his knight training, of which the funding had been severely cut, as these young soldiers may not see any bloodshed their whole lives, if the gods were willing. 

Leaving Robin’s side was harder.

Frederick had only managed to get a couple of hours of sleep before he had to start getting ready. Thanks to the previous night’s activities, he was in dire need of a wash, and he had to sort through which clothes he would pack with him.  
Ferox’s climate varied greatly depending on what part of the country one was in - desert sands and snowy mountain peaks were both characteristic features. They would be headed east to visit Flavia’s castle, and his mother’s home, which was cold. It might be best to pack lightly and purchase some clothes while he was visiting. After all, they’d definitely have his size.

He sighed as he extracted himself from Robin’s embrace. He slept so soundly - like nothing in the world could possibly disturb him.  
Frederick was not about to chance that notion. He sighed as he dressed, and headed for the showers.

-

Back in his room, dawn was nearly approaching. His knapsack was heavy, mostly with supplies like water and rations, but also with a good book - just in case he needed to escape.

Frederick knew Robin would be upset that he didn’t wake him to say goodbye. He didn’t want to say it, though, and Robin would be too sleepy for the moment to be truly meaningful. Instead, he kissed Robin’s hair; taking in one last long look at his lover. He drank in the sight, and swallowed the lump in his throat, turning on his heel to leave the room.

-

“You made it,” Flavia smiled, clapping Frederick on the shoulder in greeting. “We took bets on whether you actually would."  
Flavia wouldn't know about last night's assassination attempt - luckily, it had caused little disturbance to the party - and would probably never know.   
Everything was being kept under wraps lest someone else take advantage of the chaos to hurt the kingdom again. 

"It is as you said. I must take the opportunity with what little time I have."

The sky was lightening just a couple of shades with the beginnings of the sun, but their Feroxi guests seemed unperturbed; preparing their horses for the long journey ahead.

"Bring your best horse," Flavia gestured with a flick of her head, "we plan to reach the border in five days."

It had taken the Shepherds around double that the last time they visited Ferox. Then again, they were not in any hurry. "Have you ever actually made it in that time?"

Grinning conspiratorially, Flavia beat her chest. "After one day spent with us, a flimsy Ylissean like you won't have to ask such questions."

Frederick smiled easily. "People do not often refer to me as flimsy."

"Psh. Maybe where _you're_ from. Even your Lord would blow away in too mighty a gust of wind."

It was true that Frederick's size, both upward and outward, were not as standout among Feroxi. Even for a hard worker like himself, their stamina would pose a challenge.

"I should prepare my horse."

-

Since they would probably not be put to any good use in his absence, Frederick felt free to pick whichever horse he liked.  
His favourite horse was a powerful sprinter over short distances; she would not be suited for the road ahead.

"This guy will get you safely to Ferox. He's often used by our overnight messengers."

"Lady Sumia," Frederick acknowledged breathlessly. "What are you doing here? It is not safe!"

Sumia patted the horse on the nose calmly. "I have three guards out with me right now." She gestured behind her, where at the other end of the shed three armed soldiers could be seen. "I came to see you off."

Frederick sighed, looking over the horse she had suggested. It was, indeed, sturdy-looking. "That is kind of you."

"Chrom wanted to say goodbye too, but he was sleeping like a rock. You'll have to forgive him."

"It is not a problem. I didn't even wake Robin this morning to say goodbye."

Sumia gave him a knowing look. "Too tough? You'll be back before you know it."

"I keep telling myself that."

"It's true." There was silence between them for a moment. "Do you know what you'll be doing there?"

"Visiting my mother’s old workspace, and hoping I can find something meaningful in it. Otherwise, I'll be acting as any other Feroxi soldier; training with them and running errands."

"I'm sure it will please you not to be so complacent," Sumia teased, "I've noticed the way you linger in the halls when you're trying to find something to do."

Frederick laughed as he prepared his horse's reins. "That is true. Hopefully, I'll return with some ideas."

"You'll have our young knights running for the hills!"

"Sumia."

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For telling me to go."

Sumia smiled tightly. "There are some life experiences which make or break us. Regardless of which, they need to be had."

Frederick watched her wise face in the darkness of the shed. "You want me to go for my development - not for Milord," he accused.

Shrugging, Sumia looked at him solemnly. "It is for both of you."

Perhaps it was because Sumia spent so much time watching instead of talking, that she had such insight. Frederick included, most people hardly paid her attention because she was so understated.

"And who looks out for _you_ , Milady?"

Sumia frowned, rubbing her large stomach as if she was thinking hard about something. "My husband takes care of me just fine."

"What about a friend?"

"What a hypocritical question from Frederick the Wary."

"I'm not attacking you; I'm attempting to offer my friendship."

Sumia startled at that. "Friendship?" The word was foreign the way she sounded it out in her mouth.

"At any rate, it is for you to think about. I am not the type to be offended if you refuse my offer; I understand you have your own reasons. However, perhaps it would be nice for you to come riding with me one day. I am sure that you would like Aerdale."

Sumia looked lost, but she responded anyway. "I believe I would. Let's make it a promise, then."

Frederick held out his hand, and Sumia took it for a short, meaningful handshake. "I must be off now. Flavia is probably wondering where I am."

Sumia stepped back. "Very well, Sir Frederick. When will I see you again?"

"If all goes to plan; in the first week of August. I will send word."

Nodding, Sumia turned halfway back towards her guards. "Then farewell, and safe travels."

-

As expected, everybody was atop their steeds, ready to head out, when Frederick came over.

  
“If you’re done here, we’ll approach the gates now.” Frederick nodded in agreement, and they set off on a steady trot. “Just a few introductions. You know Basilio already. This is Mina - you met her last night,” Mina gave a sharp salute, “and _this_ is Rodrigue; Arena Ferox’s own jester-”

A young man who could have been Frederick’s brother based solely on his features interrupted angrily. “Hey!”

Flavia ignored him. “And out front is Emilio.” The boy didn’t acknowledge Flavia’s introduction if he heard it, continuing to lead the party out front.

“He’s quite young, isn’t he.”

“He’s twenty-one. He just has a babyface.”  
Emilio flipped Flavia off without turning to face her. She let out a guffaw, and even Basilio rumbled a laugh. “Either way, this motley crew is your family for the remainder of the outing, myself and Basilio included, so ask us any questions. Don’t limit yourself to me out of politeness either. These rats are desperate for some fresh blood. It gets pretty boring seeing the same faces all the time.”

“If you like Ferox that much, then feel free to stay. We’ve been looking to replace Rodrigue for some time now.” Mina teased, deadpan.

Rodrigue stuck his tongue out at her curtly.

-

JULY 4TH

The river was cold and harsh against Frederick’s skin, making his muscles ache further for home comforts of hot water and a roof over his head. He’d been smart enough to bring a bar of soap just in case, and Flavia had shortly announced that they would not be stopping off at any inns on their journey if they could help it. Unlike Lord Chrom to his people, Basilio and Flavia’s faces were well-known. People flocked from all over the nation to see battles at the great arena.

And for good reason, too. Frederick’s tired body was a testament to their mettle - even when settling at camp, as they did now, Feroxi soldiers sparred to keep the cold out of their veins. Frederick might have held his ground against them in top form, but in his weakened state, he stumbled, making careless mistakes. It had only been a few days, but Frederick wondered just how tired he’d be by the end of his excursion.

When he got back to camp, the soldiers were roasting some game on the fire, chatting heartily about their homeland.

Frederick was so hungry that even meat made his stomach growl. He sat beside Rodrigue, who handed him a bowl.  
"Flavia tells me your mother was my father's sister."

He blinked owlishly at Rodrigue, who stared back, face impassive. "I didn't know my mother had any siblings."

"They were a big family. Ten children in all, I believe."

"Gods," Frederick replied, shocked.

"Well, it's not that surprising. Many of us are related in some capacity. That's why I keep my dating pool out of Flavia's castle."

Rodrigue was his cousin, then. That was an odd thought. Lilith was an only child, and her parents had died young, so his only real family growing up were his mothers.  
"I've never had any extended family before. Does your father work in the castle?"

Sensing the real meaning of Frederick’s question, Rodrigue gave a half-smile. "He's close enough that I'll take you to meet him," he slapped Frederick on the back affectionately, "so long as you're not dead on your feet working for us; little guy."

"We are the same size."

"I definitely have an inch or two on you."

"That hardly makes me little," Frederick argued, but Rodrigue silenced him by dumping a rabbit leg into his bowl.

"Conserve your strength. Maybe you'll grow up big and strong like me."

-

_???_

_“Robin! What are you doing out of your room?” His mother rushed towards him in a panic, swaddling his tiny body in her cloak as she lifted him._

_“I wanted some water.”_

_“The king is here. You need to stay out of sight before his men see you.” She carried him back up the stairs and rushed into his room. “Do you know what will happen if you’re spotted?” She hissed, fussing at a stain on his cheek._

_“They’ll kill me.”_

_“They might kill mama, too. Do you want that to happen?” Robin shook his head numbly. “Good. I’ll get you some water.”_

_“Papa says that he’s going to kill the king.”_

_Robin’s mother pressed her sleeve to his mouth as if he had spoken a taboo. “Never say that out loud. Never believe it, either. Do you understand me? Do not trust Papa. Do not trust Validar.”_

-

JULY 2ND

Robin woke with a start, nearly flinging himself out of Frederick’s bed as his body jerked. Tangled in the sheets, he held his heavy head, trying desperately to remember the dream.

_Do not trust Validar._

Validar? ...Where had he heard that name?

“The king of Plegia,” Robin acknowledged aloud. Why did he dream about a man he’d never met?

“Muttering to yourself?”

Robin’s head whipped around at the sound, and he _did_ fall out of bed this time, feet high in the air as his legs were still attached to the sheets. He looked again. Sitting at the open window’s ledge in a crouch like a gargoyle, was...his own visage, albeit with long, curly hair, tied back with a ribbon.

“Who are you?”

“Looked into a mirror lately? I’m _you_ , genius.”

“This is a spell,” Robin stood, tying the sheet around his waist awkwardly. It trailed on the floor behind him, but was all he could do to protect his modesty. He walked around in a circle like he was pacing, but he was actually heading towards a tome he had lazily left in Frederick’s bedroom the other day. “And because I know this is a spell, I am not going to freak out. This is a _horrible_ method of introducing yourself, by the way.”

“I don’t have time to play games with you. You know this is not a spell.”

Robin gripped the spine of his tome and thrust his free hand at the other person. “Prove it.”

His twin jumped inside boredly, stalking towards him like a predator collecting its prey. “Frederick must have left by now. He’ll be in Ferox for a month.”

“Bullshit. You could have heard that from anybody at the party.”

The person grinned gleefully. “Your favourite colour is blue. Your favourite Ylissean food is spiced lamb broth. Frederick gave you one knitting lesson before he gave up, but you’ve already made your future niece a scarf, and it’s in a box under your bed right now. You raised Risen rats at Frederick’s mother’s house. Your biggest fear is your own secret desire to maim the people closest to you.”

Robin tried to remain calm. He sucked in a breath, but he felt his pulse kicking into overdrive and a cold sweat creeping down his back. “I’ll give you everything except that last one.”

“You don’t have to put on airs with me,” the person - his other self - raised their arms in a mock friendly gesture. “You’re in good company. I understand you.”

Keeping his hand raised in threat, Robin stepped backwards once. That was enough to make the intruder pause. “You said _niece_.”

His other self smiled, catlike. “I thought the little girl would have shown herself to you by now. I wonder what she’s planning, keeping everything a secret.”

“Lucina,” Robin breathed.

“Glad to confirm we’re on the same page.”

“You’re from the future.”

“Excellent observation, Captain Obvious.”

“But why-I thought Ylisse was destroyed.”

“You don’t need much critical thinking power to work that one out.”

“No.” Robin refused to believe the answer in front of his eyes.

“There’s no other answer to this puzzle, Robin.”

“I could never have destroyed Ylisse. I don’t have that power.”

“Correction: you have yet to awaken that power. I’m here to make sure that it doesn’t happen; just like her.”

“Why didn’t Lucina mention you?”

“Would you work with the very creature who destroyed your future?”

Robin pursed his lips. “What can I do to stop it from happening?”

“Leave Ylisse.”

“No. I can’t do that. I can’t leave Chrom, or Frederick. People need me here.”

“Their need to not die outweighs their need to be governed, don’t you think? Besides,” his other self sat down on the side of Frederick’s desk, “it’s not forever.”

“How long?”

“That all depends on you.”

“When are you taking me?”

“Put on your clothes and we’ll go now.”

“I need to shower.”

“Make sure nobody sees you. If we have a search party coming after us, it’ll make my job far more difficult.” His twin looked at his nails boredly.

“They will come for me anyway.”

“Why do you think I came for you today of all days, Robin?”

It took a few seconds for his brain to click into gear. “They’ll think I joined Frederick.”

“ _Well done_. Maybe you aren’t a lost cause after all.”

“I’ll meet you at the staff kitchen exit within an hour. Do I need to bring anything?”

“Something to eat wouldn’t hurt. It’s a long road ahead.”

“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?”

“Astute observation. Tick tock, Robin.”

-

Getting around the castle at noon without being spotted was a challenge. It was lucky Robin was used to sneaking around; mostly to explore the place, or steal food. Most of the staff were extremely busy, anyway - cleaning up the huge mess from last night’s festivities.

The showers were empty at this time. Few people got up as late as Robin did, which meant he got to hog the group baths to himself most days. He still showered and dressed in a hurry, though; worried about being spotted.

-

“You can’t wear that.”

“Wear what?”

“That thing.” Robin’s future self gestured vaguely at his trademark coat.

“Why not? I’m not leaving it behind.” He pulled it protectively around his middle.

“You have to. It makes you stick out like a sore thumb.”

“I’ll be sneaky.”

Irately, his future self opened one of the kitchen cupboards and held out his hand expectantly. “Saving Ylisse is of far more importance than your silly attachments.”  
Robin sadly handed the coat over. Immediately, his heartbeat picked up at the thought of leaving it behind. This trip was already terrifying - he was leaving the only home he knew.  
A pile of material was thrown his way. “Wear this instead.”

Robin immediately recognised the smell as Frederick’s. It was a dark brown cardigan, and it was far too big for him, cloaking his silhouette almost entirely. It was comforting. "You took this from his room."

"I knew you would bring that coat," his twin responded, opening the back door. "Let's go," he said, not waiting for Robin to respond.

"Should I just call you Robin?"

"Ugh, _no_ ," his other self responded immediately. 

"What?"

"I mean, it would get too confusing. Call me Grima if you must refer to me at all."

"That's a disgusting name. It's strangely familiar, though."

"Why don't you use your pea brain for something useful; namely, not running away so conspicuously."

"My pea brain is your pea brain," Robin responded almost immediately. 

Grima sucked his mouth in with obvious disgust. "We will head to the forest on the outer grounds by foot."

"And then?"

"That's all you get to know for now."

-

They got to the forest with surprisingly few close shaves - there was a severe lack in security measures for Ylisstol castle; no wonder those dangerous fools were able to infiltrate the night prior. He'd have to get that sorted upon his return if they hadn't done something already.

Once the trees veiled them thickly enough, Grima stopped quick enough that Robin nearly walked right into him. "Get out of the way," he said, and Robin gave him a foot of distance. "No; further."

When Grima was satisfied with the distance, he began to unbutton his cotton shirt; dropping it on the ground as if it was trash.

Before Robin's very eyes, Grima's back deformed; crunching disgustingly as bones appeared to dislocate under him. Blackness oozed out from his shoulder blades, and Robin thought it was liquid until he realised it wasn't dripping.  
Shiny scales formed huge bony wings that glistened wetly; the edge of which was framed with silky black feathers far too graceful for how disgustingly they escaped his flesh.

Robin felt cold all over. "What the hell is that?"

"Was I always this stupid?"

"You're not me. You can't be."

Grima's wings batted once, sending a gust of air that bowled a shocked Robin onto his bottom. Once again, Grima closed the distance. "You can do this too, you know."

"As if I can," Robin spat.

"You've never done magic without a tome?" Grima raised an eyebrow.

Robin swallowed thickly. "Sending lighting sparks and doing," he gestured wildly, " _that_ , is entirely different."

"Take your shirt off."

"No."

"Take the damned shirt off! I have had enough of your tantrums."  
Robin tied Frederick's cardigan tightly around his waist and undid his shirt, discarding it in a similar fashion to Grima.  
"Now, replicate what you just saw."

Robin imagined his flesh crunching like Grima's; saw the bones taking form behind his eyelids.  
"See, I c-" From behind Robin’s outstretched arms, that sickening cracking sound happening again. Robin felt dizzy.

Grima took his hand. "Get away from the trees."

"I'm going to be sick," Robin said, and tried to crouch, before the weight on his back increased tenfold, pushing him face-first into the grass. He managed to press upwards just far enough to spit bile in front of him.

Looking at him disgusted, Grima tapped his foot. "Are you done with your tantrum yet?"

"I should fucking kill you," Robin growled.

"Why don't you learn how to handle your own magic first?" 

"Since you know fucking everything," Robin began irritably, getting up from the floor, "how am I doing this without a tome? Hell, without a _sacrifice_?"  
Grima stared at him boredly.  
"I won't leave with you unless you tell me."

"You do pick your timing, Robin. I'm not going to sit here outside Ylisstol Castle and explain the same magic that you so readily accepted destroyed a nation."

Robin felt silly when he put it like that. "As soon as we get wherever you're taking me, I want an explanation."

Grima waved his hand dismissively. "Let's fly."

He'd never felt this slow to the draw in all his life. Of course they were flying. Grima didn't spare him a glance before he took off. 

Robin stood there for a while; dumbfounded. He batted his wings experimentally. He was getting used to the weight of them, but that was on flat ground. 

Taking a short run-up, Robin jumped, and his wings carried him forward before he tossed himself into the dirt. Well, Grima was just going to have to wait for him to be ready.

Robin picked himself back up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooooooooooooooooo please don't hate me  
> this chapter is LATE for several reasons  
> 1\. i was dragged off to york for personal reasons (although how historical it is there definitely gave me some insp for coming chapters!)  
> 2\. i had to completely rewrite the nsfw scene because i HATED it and god it took so long you guys.  
> 3\. im moving to my new apartment supposedly tomorrow if my estate agents learn how to pick up a phone and literally the day after is my birthday and then i go back to work and i am MADE OF STRESS
> 
> my favourite part of this chapter was without doubt the chrom/sumia scene on the balcony. i really love writing sumia especially as someone who doesn't necessarily like robin...i feel like i gave him so many protectors and people who adore him because i really adore him! but it was fun to look on the other side of that and think about what people who aren't his biggest fans see.  
> i also was looking a lot at the characters i'd reintroduced from awakening and wanted to develop them a bit more. i kind of go a bit nuts with the ocs which isn't my favourite thing to do but such is the nature of a story in which the characters travel out of the main setting.  
> anyhow i'd looked at sumia and realised that i made her a bit lonely. so i decided to run with it and that's her thing now. but here's hoping she and frederick can get the chance to bond over horses or whatever
> 
> there is ONE more chapter left of this book, before i move on to the third and final book in this series. talking to my darling editor and best friend si last night i realised just how much content i'm going to have to fit into ~6 chapters is making me feel a liiiiittle seasick but we'll get through it together. 
> 
> as always thank you all so much for your continued support. please let me know what you're thinking! any comments are immensely appreciated ESPECIALLY your predictions for what's going to happen next. see you all soon!!


	6. part / ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three countries; three motives. What will happen when they all reunite?

[PART](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOubjLM9Cbc) / [WAYS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xZ6P4Sinvw)

And thus, Frederick and Robin separated. Their hearts differed in method and overlapped in motive - in many ways, they were both saving Frederick. 

Frederick sought to find something lost within himself; collecting shards of possibility like glass that had been shattered once the war was over and he stepped over the threshold of adulthood.  
So much time had passed - so much of his story had already been written; and yet, beginning led him by the tips of his fingers and his toes to be reborn into a man surer of himself. That way, he could stand beside Robin honestly no matter what may happen.

Robin thought of little else but Frederick’s life as he began his awkward metamorphosis; the familial love which had turned his heart human and spurred him to keep going with little thought to how monstrous his physical form became.  
Some small part of him thought that, had Frederick not been there, he may not have much cared about Grima appearing at his window. Maybe he would have summoned the strength to shoo him away, no matter how uncanny their likeness.   
But, no matter what happened to Robin, Frederick had to survive. He wasn’t always a nice man, but he was unfailingly kind. He truly thought of others - not in aid of ensuring they liked him, but so that their needs could be met.   
Robin thought strategically about most things - the people who it would help him to talk to; the doors that would open if he befriended them. Sometimes he deliberately ignored those thoughts, but it was hard to make conversation with people unless you needed something specific from them anyway. He loved Frederick for how different he was in that respect. Everything Frederick did was without expectation of reciprocation. It made Robin want to give him everything.  
And if that put his life in forfeit, so be it.

-

JULY 8TH

“This is it.”  
Flavia pounded on the door with the side of her fist as she said it, and Frederick watched dust emanate from the cracks between the panels. It made the fact that the room had been untouched in over two decades far more real.  
With her other hand, Flavia went digging in her pocket, and procured a key, holding it up like a warning. “Don’t let yourself be seen coming here. And, if I were you, I wouldn’t take any of her notes out of this office at all.” Frederick could hear the undertone of her words - she was telling him that anything incriminating in the room was not his to touch. 

That irked Frederick a little. He had long-since decided that he would take whatever he wanted from that room.   
"Very well," he said anyway.

Only once he was alone did Frederick unlock the door. He had to hold his breath to keep from coughing; the air was stale and rancid with disuse.

Selene's office was more like a hole in the wall - the space was longer than it was wide, and the ceiling sloped downwards where there appeared to be a staircase on the floor above. 

Right under the lowest point of the ceiling was a dark brown bookshelf that, despite its small size, looked like it had been shoved into its cavern with great difficulty. It was filled; with a few trace gaps wherein books had obviously been removed. 

In front of the bookshelf, there was a large desk (which left a very narrow path for Frederick to reach the back of the room), covered in completely disorganised and discoloured parchment, writing tools and trinkets. 

Towards the front of the room, opposite the door, was a table that looked a bit like what Libra had in his office - all manner of test tubes and (dead) herbs appeared to have been used for creating potions and salves.   
A note had been taped securely to one corner of the tabletop. Frederick ran his fingers over it wistfully - his mother had probably written this. It seemed to be some kind of recipe. Most of the ingredients he had never heard of before. It wouldn't hurt to look them up, though…

-

JULY 15TH

"Destroy that target."

"What target?" 

Grima gestured forward like it was obvious, but for miles, all Robin could see was the powdery grey-brown of dead earth. 

"If you can't focus, you will never see your lover again."

Robin sighed, disheartened. "...So much for the rest of Ylisse, huh."

"The rest of them are inconsequential."

"Even Chrom?"

Grima spat on the earth. "Inconsequential."

"You can't lie to _yourself_."

"But I can be shaped by experiences you haven't had. Once you encounter a life-or-death situation, you wouldn't hesitate to choose Frederick over anybody."

"And that makes everybody else inconsequential?"

"...It may as well, if the result is the same."

Robin poked Grima in the chest. "Not everything is about life and death, y’know."

"Why don't you keep quiet and do what I tell you to do?"

Focusing his gaze, Robin felt that similar swimming sickness as the target shifted into view. It was as if he'd donned a pair of binoculars; the target was distant, but clear all the same.  
He slipped his tome out of his pocket, and posed to strike. His lightning fell several metres short of the goal.

Grima scoffed at the sight. "You brought one of those things along? For what?"

Robin gestured as if it were obvious. "For magic," he said.

"How many times must I explain? You only limit your power by referring to a book."

Snapping the book shut with irritation, Robin practically growled at Grima. "What in the Gods' names do you want me to do, then? You won't tell me _anything_ about this new power - not the source of it, not how it's supposed to feel; you just expect me to understand!"

"Well, it was that easy for me."

"Then maybe I'm not you!"

At that point, a pegasus swooped down, casting dirt into Robin's mouth and eyes with its landing.  
"Trouble, boys?"

"Aversa?!" Robin cried incredulously.

"It took you long enough." Grima stared at Aversa sourly, but she only ruffled his hair in response.

"Don't be so impatient, little brother mine."

" _Little brother_?" Robin spluttered. This was too much for him to take.

"Do not get the wrong idea. There is no blood relation between us."

"Oh, thank goodness."

Aversa shrugged and flipped her hair. "Well; it's nice to be wanted. Are you having trouble?"

Grima sighed and flailed his arms approximately in Robin's direction. "Look at him."

Aversa eyed Robin up and down, laughing at his hand luggage. "Are we setting up a museum of primitive artefacts?"

"Well, maybe if _somebody_ had taught me anything about the magic he was trying to scare me into learning, I would be able to pick it up a little easier."

"You should know how to do it in the first place. It's the style of magic you grew up with."

Robin felt breathless. "Plegian magic?"

"Not just Plegian, but yours." Aversa stared at him like she was waiting for him to understand, and huffed when he didn't. "You were one of the most powerful mages in Plegia before you ra- _lost your memories_. A prodigy. You're sacrificing your potential by casting from a book like an Ylissean. You didn't grow up in their culture - you cannot relate to their power. Anything you make from that," she pointed to the book in his hands, "is a poor imitation of Ylissean power. A mockery, if you will."

Robin stared helplessly down at his tome. No wonder, he couldn’t help thinking, the other spells had come so naturally to him, and been so much more powerful. He hated to think it, but what Aversa was saying made sense.  
"I have no connection to Plegia anymore."

Aversa huffed a laugh. "Did Grima carry you here, then?"

"No. He flew," Grima answered for him.

"Then you have your answer."

Irritation flared up in Robin's chest. He was doing his best to understand what was going on, but everyone was just giving him cryptic responses. "No, I don't have my answer; actually! I have exactly _zero_ answers. So, what; I'm just supposed to follow you both - without any explanation, what, because I'm Plegian? Because I look like you? Because I can do fancy mag-" Robin pointed angrily at the target as he spoke. A crackle of the largest lightning he had ever summoned burned the target to a crisp; the fire and smoke beaming up high enough to be seen by the naked eye.

"You were saying?" 

-

JULY 16TH

"I've come to ask for your...insight."

Flavia rested her elbows on her desk, cradling her chin in her hands. "I can't promise anything. To be honest, I have no idea what your mother got up to in her spare time, and I have very little interest in it."

"This," Frederick said, shaking the object onto the table in front of her. The clattering noise it made opened to a long silence.

"It's a ring," she replied simply. 

"I know _that_." The gold band was long and designed to snake up the finger. Small red jewels were encrusted all the way up to a huge stone at the head. "I just wanted to know if it had any...special significance."

"This one is an engagement ring. It appears to be traditional of the Northern lands - that's probably where your ancestors are from."

"How do you know that?"

Flavia picked the ring up between her thumb and forefinger, twisting it in the light. "Do you see these markings on the inside?"

Looking closely, small, scratch-like incisions had been made from the tip of the ring sloping downwards. "I see them."

"They represent how many times the ring has been given. Every time someone proposes, a new mark is engraved. Your mother probably didn't think to bring it to Ylisse, so it skipped her generation."  
Flavia pressed the ring back into Frederick's waiting palm as if it weighed nothing. It took all of Frederick’s resolve to curl his fingers around it and close it away.

He hadn’t really needed to get Flavia’s confirmation - it was obvious what the thing was, but some part of him had wanted his judgement to be denied.   
Frederick had already thought to give his lover a ring - he wasn’t sure yet if the nature of it was more like an engagement or a promise ring.

Suddenly, Frederick felt out of his depth again. The ring had belonged to people who shared his blood, but never knew him. The lives that led to the marks on this ring may as well have been shadows. Was this rite really his to partake in?

“If I were to...if I were to take it, do you think…”

“It’s yours, Frederick.”

“But would it be _okay_? I don’t even know the meaning behind it...the traditions, or...”

“I will teach you whatever you want to know. But you have to remember that culture is made and shaped by the people within it.”

“Pardon?”

“What I mean is, even if you ended up using that thing as a paperweight, as long as you felt like it was the right thing to do, and you’re not being majorly disrespectful; nobody can stop you. It’s not like you’re telling anybody else how to live.”

Flavia’s words felt like permission - an entry point. She saw him as Feroxi, and so did others. Their recognition brought him strength.

-

JULY 17TH

“Has anybody seen Robin?”

Chrom had been looking around for him all day - it was not uncommon that Robin would go missing for a couple of days at a time; usually invested in some strange project or another, it was nigh on useless to go and find him. But it had been two weeks now since Chrom had last seen him, which was more than a little strange.

Hoping to use him as a wall to bounce ideas off of for his child’s bedroom, Chrom had knocked at his door, tried the staff kitchen Robin now frequented, Frederick’s room and the library. All to no avail. 

“Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen the guy since Frederick left. Are you sure he’s not sulking?” Sully scratched her stomach, unconcerned, as she sat back on her dining chair.

‘He would at least eat something’, was what Chrom wanted to say, but it wasn’t true. Robin could forget to eat for extremely long periods of time if he was focused enough. 

Chrom pursed his lips. He didn't want to invade Robin's privacy, but this had gone on long enough.

-

Libra opened his door before Chrom had even knocked.

"Your majesty," he noted with surprise, "what can I do for you? Is all well with Her Ladyship?"

"Ah-yes, Sumia is just fine."

"Then would you like to come inside?" Libra braced his arm against the door, making a gap for Chrom to enter.

"That's quite all right, thank you. I was actually wondering if you'd seen Robin at all in the past couple of weeks."

Libra's expression turned blank. "No; I thought he'd left with Sir Frederick."

"Flavia told me he wasn't going." 

"...Still, it's a possibility that he decided to tag along."

"I suppose so. Would you mind helping me look for him just in case? I'm worried he's not eating."

"Of course. Should we check the kitchen?"

"I've been there already. And the library, too."

"It wouldn’t hurt to check again. After all, he is mobile."

Chrom sighed. "All right then. Thank you, Libra."

-

Libra was a far more skilled detective than Chrom. Methodically, he checked under desks, around corners, and through stacks of paper for signs of any tasks Robin might be undertaking. It all came back cold, though.

It was only when they got to the kitchen that the clues began to unveil.

"Your Majesty, you are going to want to see this."

Chrom rose from his crouching position under the table, nearly hitting his head on it, and stumbled towards Libra.

He had opened a cupboard by the back door - stuffed inside haphazardly alongside rusty pots and pans was something so familiar it sent a shiver up his spine.  
"His cloak - why in the - he never goes anywhere without it!"

Libra nodded solemnly, folding the material over his forearm. "We need to get the master keys for the bedrooms. Now."

-

It felt awful unlocking the door to somebody else's room without consent; especially Robin's. This was his one area of solitude - the only home he had ever known.

And it was empty.

Not empty of its regular furnishing - his bed lay unmade; the usual books and rugs scattered to and fro in order to create a cosy atmosphere.  
The window was open, a strong breeze causing the curtain to whip back into the room. 

Libra touched Robin's mattress. "Cold," he said; his voice unsurprised.

Chrom walked over to Robin's desk, searching through his notes, but found nothing which was both legible and could be used as a clue. 

On his bedside table, a massive book was sat, and Chrom went to reach for it with some feeble last attempt at gathering information.

"Stop! Don't touch it." Libra grabbed Chrom's wrist harshly. "There is a powerful enchantment attached to that book. I have never felt anything quite like it. Except…"

"Except?"

Libra let go of Chrom's wrist suddenly. "He wasn't seeing things."

"Pardon?"

"We need to check Frederick's room. Immediately."

-

Frederick’s room was also empty. Nothing was out of place bar the wardrobe and window being slightly ajar - the bed was made, meaning Robin hadn't slept in it, and the desk was organised, meaning Robin hadn't used it.

"They've definitely...gone together, right?"  
Libra remained silent; his body stiff as a board. Chrom didn’t have time to question that.   
"Sumia said goodbye to Frederick the morning he left. I'm going to check with her."

-

Only once Chrom had left the room did Libra find himself able to move again. As soon as he had sensed the powerful energy emanating from that book, he tuned into it - rich and powerful and unmistakably Robin’s magic.  
Why had he enchanted it, though? What could possibly be such a big secret that it needed to be kept under such a risky lock?

Libra sensed it again, in Frederick’s room. The coal scent of Robin’s magic had left its mark here.

Under the bed was where he searched first.  
Then the desk, under the armchairs and in the gaps of the bookshelves. The scent was everywhere, but unplaceably so, as if Robin’s magic had infused with the carpets and the curtains.  
It was only when Libra gave up and turned to leave that they decided to show themselves.

Three rats, standing to attention in a line that might have been sweet if it wasn’t so threatening. Glowing red eyes held an intelligence far too great for Libra’s comfort.   
The risen rats, just like Robin had told him long ago - those same rats that he had dismissed.

_"Right. Sorry." He took a deep breath. "The water that I purified." He looked Libra dead in the eye. "Don't laugh, okay?" Libra's face didn't change. "I turned some rats into Risen."_

_"Robin, this is very important. Did you see them change from dead to alive?"_  
  
_Robin thought back. "No, I didn't."_

_"How can you be sure they were Risen?"_

Libra fell to his knees in front of them.

_"You don't believe me, do you?"_

_"I believe that...you believe that those rats were Risen."_

“Robin? Robin, are you there?”  
The rats didn’t even blink in acknowledgement.  
“If you are, you have my sincerest apologies for not believing you when it mattered. If you’ve sent these rats as emissaries, I suppose that means you are safe? I am relieved. I shan’t...tell His Majesty about this, though, and I am afraid he will not stop until he lays eyes on you. Whatever it is that you are doing...I trust you. I just wish you would have told me, though I understand, in retrospect, why you didn’t. I am going to get rid of the evidence, now, all right?”

With that, Libra pressed his hand to the tome at his side, and from it, came a glowing light.

-

JULY 12TH

When Robin realised they’d reached Plegia, night had already fallen. Aversa had donned a low-hooded cloak for their walk into town; she was well-known as advisory to the king and while it was unlikely that any harm would come to them, it would be easier if she wasn’t spotted.

He had asked if July was a festival season, and was surprised to find the answer was no.

Small globes of light hung from invisible wire as far as the eye could see. They lit up beautiful tapestries that appeared to be handmade, in an art style that Robin was sure he had seen before.  
Even in the dark, Robin could see that the pathway was made from multi-coloured stone; he stepped on rich corals, indigoes and emeralds whose colours were clearly natural, or they would have faded by now.  
Even the buildings were coloured beautifully; Robin had no doubt they’d be a sight in the afternoon sun, but they were still gorgeous to look at in the evening.

The weather was humid; Frederick’s cardigan remained wrapped firmly around Robin’s waist as his arms dampened in the wet heat.

They arrived at an inn, and Grima promptly announced that he was retiring. Before Robin could so much as concur, Aversa had led him into the beer garden, and seated him on a wooden chair.  
The garden was laid with pebbles; small bouts of green poking through gaps in the sand. On the outer layer, a purposeful flowerbed had been laid with all manner of big, leafy trees and small gatherings of cacti. Moths and fireflies danced around the lights of the inn; mostly unable to navigate the beaded entrance curtain.   
From somewhere, Aversa procured a bottle of alcohol that looked very strong, and poured them a shot each. She lifted her glass between her finger and her thumb in a toast, and downed it whole.

“I’m not drinking anything you give me,” Robin muttered spitefully. “Who knows what you put in it?”

“Ah, you’re right! I forgot I left all my poison in that glass.” Aversa responded sarcastically. “Or maybe, for some idiotic reason, I thought it’d be _swell_ to wait until after you’ve agreed to cooperate to incapacitate you.”  
Aversa reached for Robin’s shot, but he snatched it from her just in time and drank it all. Grinning widely, Aversa offered him another round. He held out his glass.  
“Listen, now the monster is asleep, I wanted to...give you the chance to ask your questions. I can’t promise I can answer all of them - or even _any_ of them, but I’ll damn well try.”

Robin raised his full shot glass in the air. “Fine by me. Who was I, Aversa?”

Aversa winced at the question, and for the first time since he’d met her she looked uncomfortable, even unsure of herself.  
“Of course you’d ask that. I’m not sure if I should even attempt to answer that - don’t look at me like that! It’s not that I’m trying to keep anything from you, but what I know is very minimal...because I wasn’t around when you were.”

“What, like, alive?”

“No, stupid. I didn’t enter the family until after you’d gone.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“I don’t know that either, but I can tell you that you weren’t there when I arrived seven years ago.”

“Seven years…” Robin wasn’t sure how old he was, but that probably made him a teenager when he disappeared. “I don’t understand. I only met Chrom a couple of years ago. I…”

Aversa shook her head. “I have no idea what could possibly have happened to you in those years. I’m not allowed to ask that sort of thing.”

“So...Aversa, why are you teaming up with Grima? I can’t see what you personally have to gain from any of this.”

“What, you don’t think I want to save the world?” She huffed.

“I don’t think you’ve wanted to save a damn thing besides your own ass for your entire life.”

Aversa set down her glass and looked Robin straight in the eye. “Revenge.”

“On who?”

“The person who took my memories,” she said simply. “That’s all for tonight. We have a big journey ahead of us tomorrow.”

As much as Robin’s curiosity was still burning, he had a feeling that Aversa had already said too much. He finished his last drink and headed up to his room.

-

JULY 14TH

Plegia was even hotter during the daytime.   
It was to be expected, really, but Robin found every step painful with how hot his feet were inside his shoes, and his hair felt thick and damp against his neck. He took another swig from his water canister. The sun was harsh, making it hard to even see without his vision swimming.

Their destination had long-since come into view. The poorer, colourful parts of the country were sprinkled in and then lost to a sea of white, uniform buildings that were nevertheless beautiful. Even they trickled out to the long-stretching sands, leaving only a vast white palace in their wake.

Two long bodies of water sat either side of the palace; dotted with the green of tall trees and pondside fauna that somehow managed to survive the desperate heat. The palace was not nearly as tall as it was wide; some way between a dome and a cuboid, it was long with rounded corners and a columned balcony. It reflected the sunlight so much that it was hard to directly look at.

“Remember what we told you, okay. From here on out, I found you and told you who you were. You decided to come back-”

“To meet my father.” Robin finished.

“Good. Let’s get going, then.”

Robin felt his heart drop into his shoes.

-

Chrom sped through the door of the library, nearly slamming a table with the full force of his bodyweight. “Sumia? Are you in here?”  
Nearly shoving bookshelves out of his way as he navigated the aisles towards Sumia’s usual spot, he was relieved to find her familiar silhouette even if she looked...extremely angry with him.

Sumia snapped her book shut. “Chrom, this is a library!” She hissed.

“I know, that’s why I’m here.” Chrom replied, confused.

“You bonehead! You’re not supposed to yell in a library!”

“It’s an emergency, Sumia.”

“So much that you had to take the shelves apart on your way in here?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just urgently need to ask you something, okay?”

“Chrom, if it’s about that damned baby room again I don’t wanna hear it.”

“It’s not about the baby room! It’s about Frederick.”

Sumia’s demeanour instantly changed, her shoulders tensing as she put her book down. “What happened?”

“I need you to remember something for me. When you said goodbye to him, did he mention anything about taking Robin with him?”

“He said that he didn’t get to say goodbye. Robin was still sleeping when he left; there’s no way…”

Chrom rubbed at his eyeballs with the heels of his palms. “Gods, I thought as much.”

“I don’t understand. Have you really not seen him all this time?”

“He’s been missing. I thought he was throwing himself into his work while Frederick was gone, but there’s no trace of him anywhere, and his cloak was left in the kitchen.”

Sumia’s lips thinned out. “We’ll call for a search party. Immediately.”

“Two weeks is an incredibly long time to be missing, Sumia.”

“I know,” she said. “But we can’t lose hope.”

“Sire!” A voice called from the other end of the room. “Are you in here? I have urgent news!”

A scrappy young girl practically flew into them both, curtseying at her clumsy entrance.

“What could possibly be happening at the same time as this?”

“Sire, I have mail from Plegia.”

Sumia took the letter from the girl’s waiting hands. Chrom gripped her forearm as he read over her shoulder, and went completely cold.

“Chrom, this could just be a coincid-”

“You know it’s not.” 

Sumia went silent.

_The Kingdom of Plegia delights in cordially inviting Governors Chrom, Sumia and guests to the late coronation party of King Validar, with special news:_

_The lost prince Robin has finally returned home._

_Please join us on August 15th to celebrate this joyous occasion._

“It doesn’t make any sense. How could he have gotten there and been recognised so quickly?”

“I don’t know. But I know it’s him.”

Sumia sighed. He knew she was in agreement. “Send word to Sir Frederick,” she told the messenger girl.

“And gather all of the Shepherds - Marth, too. We march on Plegia tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI I REWROTE THIS CHAPTER LIKE 3 TIMES  
> you guys it has been. so. fucking. painful. to get through this meanwhile i have to sort out TAXES and staff issues at my full-time job...hoo...  
> storytime half of the electronics went out in my new apartment the other night and i had a full breakdown before my sister flipped the fuses and everything was fine again. i really am living life on the edge
> 
> ANYHOW FREDROBIN  
> wow there are so many plot points in this chapter. it is also SHORTER simply because i wanna keep the cliffhanger for book 3!!  
> i am absolutely so excited to release book 3 it is SO self-indulgent. there are definitely some sad scenes arriving but also a lot of fun and hopefully a new brand of romance for frederick and robin!
> 
> i'm trying very hard not to make things confusing. i bet it will be harder for those of you who are reading as the chapters are released compared to those of you who are just reading the whole thing in one chunk (though if you're the latter, I fucking salute you. jesus christ this fic is so long). let me know if there's anything you're confused about, and i will let you know if it's something i just haven't been clear about, or if it's left in the dark on purpose!!
> 
> as always thank you to simon my dearest darling who named the chapter and proofread for me and will be coming to live with me in two days!! i adore you  
> thank you to tris who bullies me for being british (you would get on with si actually) and keeps me motivated to write always.
> 
> this chapter is inspired by dragon quest (surprise surprise) (actually on that note, plegia castle is semi inspired by gallopolis from dq11. check out the cats because they will feature next book), and also dragon quest (selene's office is inspired by dq9 coffinwell), and also uh dragon quest.
> 
> i specifically enjoyed going off to simon about the different kinds of magic i made exist in the fe universe. it's completely uncanon but i DONT CARE i really enjoy making a magic system and i just really think it fits the wider theme of the story to connect it to culture and ancestors.  
> for those interested, here's how it works:
> 
> ylisse: mostly tome summoning. use of ancient power words and numbers; calling on the power of dragons and ancestors through literary and verbal prayer.  
> plegia: often summoning-circle type magic. kind of a fma style equivalent exchange; something must be given to the ancestral realm in order to borrow its power.  
> ferox: not magic in the traditional sense; mostly potion-making, but more powerful potions are harder to make and require physical and mental fortitude, plus travelling long distance for supplies

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaand we are back! welcome to book 2!! i really hope you enjoy where i'm going with this. the title is a little ominous, i know, but mostly this book is supposed to be a happy one. i finally know pretty much where i'm going chapter-by-chapter.  
> thank you so much to joey and si; the loves of my life, they keep me going and without them this fic absolutely would not exist.  
> if you wanna find me elsewhere, you can find my twitter @sasukesbian or my interests livetwt (not spoiler free) @rockleesbian
> 
> this book has definitely gone through a lot of phases.  
> to me art has always been about communicating something - maybe that's true for everybody; i don't know. i just find it hard to express the things i want to express in the format of a conversation. everything brilliant i've ever made has been at least partially for somebody else.  
> this piece has been a long note to a lot of people. it started off as a note to my best friend; a communication of all the  
> things i love most about him and a reassurance that his ideas and interests were wonderful to me.  
> it then became a call to everyone i've loved before; a reassurance that i've never forgotten them or the ways in which  
> they changed me.  
> book two and three will partially be about those things, but it's also a note to family. a note to hope and to myself; a  
> call to my culture and my heritage. i love that you guys get so much out of reading this, but it truly has been a personal journey as well. i'm so glad i have written this far and i really can't wait to see how it develops.


End file.
